Fallen Seraphim
by obfuscation
Summary: Faye encounters a man somehow connected to her past while Spike must come to terms with the hand that destiny has dealt him. But what happens when Faye's past becomes intertwined with Spike's previous life and neither are as they seem?
1. Take Down

[Just for reference, the sake of my well being, and the sake of the wallet, I do not own Cowboy Bebop or any of the characters held within.  Cowboy Bebop and the characters are owned by Sunrise.]

Author's Note: Thanks for taking the time to read my story.  This is my first Cowboy Bebop story so please review so I know that I didn't completely defile the best anime series I have ever seen.

**Fallen Seraphim is rated PG-13 for realistic violence and language.**

Timeline: Occurs after episode 24: _Hard Luck Woman _but before _The Real Folk Blues_.  Oh, and I know Big Shot was cancelled in the show, just let me have that one bit of writer's prerogative. 

~**Cowboy Bebop**~

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Take Down**~

"I hate opera," Faye muttered shifting uneasily in her seat.  "Especially this song, what's it called again?"  She turned to the man sitting next to her.

"_Ave Maria_," Spike answered.  He wished she wasn't so fidgety; she was drawing attention to herself.  He had already tried to quiet her down numerous times, but she wouldn't shut up.  It was as if something inside her kept her mouth moving even though she had repeated every sentence at least five times in the last ten minutes.  "Will you try and calm down.  We're starting to get some weird looks.  Bounties are usually easier to catch if they _don't_ know you're here."

"I've just had bad luck with opera, that's all," she replied, trying to pass off her nervousness.  

"You _are _bad luck if you haven't noticed," Spike fired back.  Earning him a disapproving look from Faye as well as a few shushes from people near them.

"Now who's drawing a crowd?" Faye asked amused.  Spike turned to glare at her, shrugged, then decided it'd be best to keep an eye out for the bounty.  

His eyes went out across the audience, but he was fairly sure that their man wouldn't be in the ground level seats.  Turning his attention to the balconies, he casually took in the details of how extravagant people could actually be.  There was probably someone up there who's dress alone put the ten million woolong reward on this bounty to shame.  Hell, the tickets to this thing alone had taken a hefty sum out of the possible ten million reward; not to mention the tux and the dress.  

_All the more reason to nail this guy.  _Spike grinned slightly at the thought, and the fact that his eyes just found something worth ten million.  He lightly nudged Faye and she glanced up in the direction he was looking.  She nodded in agreement once spotting him.

"Let's grab him now, I can't stand this anymore," Faye snapped; what patience she had was obviously running thin.

Spike quickly weighed his options.  If they waited, there was the possibility this guy might skip out.  But waiting to grab him allowed Spike to get the full enjoyment of the opera experience, whatever the hell that was.  Plus it included tormenting Faye.  Then there was also the possibility that Faye might go ballistic and start shooting random people, lose the bounty, and get stuck with a hospital bill.  Grabbing him now seemed like a good idea.

"Alright, let's go," Spike whispered to her.  The two began to make their way towards the end of the aisle, much to the chagrin of the other opera goers.  It appeared that many of the audience members were more than a little annoyed at the "green-haired punk" and his "date."

-           -           -           -           -

The pair made their way down one of the many ornate hallways of the concert hall.  Spike reached into his jacket and removed his Jericho from its holster.  For some reason, even though he was adept at hand-to-hand combat, there was something about a gun that just reassured him.  The cool feeling of the metal on your hand.  The fact that merely holding a weapon gave you controlled power.  Not just the power to end a life, but the power to harness an explosion.

He glanced over at Faye, keeping in step with him, her Glock held firmly in her right hand..._Where the hell does she keep that thing?_  _Especially with what she's wearing._  Spike eyed the skimpy black dress.  Low-cut, spaghetti strap, back less that hung down to just below her thigh, with a slit up the right.  Where'd she hide the gun?  The purse!  Well, after all the makeup he saw her cram into that little thing he wasn't quite sure there would be room.

"Faye?" Spike asked cautiously, not sure if asking this would violate some sacred, unwritten rule of questions you never ask a woman.  He wasn't too sure, but he guessed it probably ranked right up there with _how much do you weigh? _and _is it that time of month?_

"Yeah?"

"Uhh…right here," he stuttered, trying to change the subject.  She shot a curious look his way, then just decided to let it drop.  She wouldn't normally drop it, it was fun to see him squirm, but she had a reason.  Ten million of them.

"So," Faye began, keeping her voice low as to not disturb those beyond the door.  "You wanna kick down the door and go guns blazing?  Or the more subtle approach?"

Spike pondered the question for a moment.  "Which one worked last time?"

"Last time we kicked down the door and went guns blazing.  Then we ended up with a dead bounty head, a repair bill, and a hospital bill on a civilian."  

Spike shrugged, "So I guess it's the subtle way."  His hand reached for the handle of the door, but stopped short when he heard Faye's voice.

"The last time we did that, it backfired and it ended up guns blazing and no bounty," Faye said, her voice still soft, but obviously wondering at the chance of success at this point.

"Well, what worked the last time we _got _a bounty?" Spike asked become annoyed at the line of questions.

"Well, we-" she was cut off when they heard the distinct _click! _of a door handle being turned.  Both Spike and Faye tensed, their pistols going to where the individual's head would be.  The door slid inward and a dark haired, thirty year-old man came through the door…then stopped when he saw the guns leveled at his head.

"Don't move!" Faye barked, her trigger finger visibly tightening on the piece of metal that kept this man from death.  

"What's the meaning of this?" the man asked with a slight English accent, his voice conveying a nervous tinge.  Spike pulled out a piece of paper from his pants pocket.  He glanced at the face on the paper, then at the man before him.  Faye looked over at him quizzically.  Spike shrugged, nodded, shoved the paper back into his pocket, then roughly grabbed the man's shoulder.  Quickly forcing the man to the ground, he pulled his arms behind his back and handcuffed him.

"Haron Kalth, you're a very lucky man," Spike said, his voice low.

"And why is that?  I walk through a door, have guns pointed to my head, and am thrown on the ground and handcuffed in less than _five minutes!_  How the hell does that make me _lucky?_" He screamed, nearly on the verge of hysterics.

"Because you're worth enough to keep me from shooting you," Spike then decided to add for his own amusement.  "But if you keep bitching, I might decide that your silence is worth more."  Haron's eyes widened at this remark.  Needless to say, he was quiet until they reached the police station.  Where upon he immediately began proclaiming his innocence and stated for all to hear that he was mistreated by these "low-life bounty hunters."

The police, of course, didn't really care.  To them, he was just one more perp they didn't have to chase down; and it wasn't like the money was coming out of their pockets.  They quickly drug Haron down to lockup and paid Spike for "services rendered."  He received a few dirty looks from a few of the low lives currently residing in the building, but paid them no mind.  He was ten million woolongs richer and they were probably being sent to trial for petty crimes.  _Maybe there is justice in the world?_

Spike casually walked out the front doors of the building, his hunched gait easily recognizable to the purple-haired female waiting for him.  She stepped in stride with the green-haired bounty hunter and the two soon became engrossed in an argument as to the best way to catch a bounty: guns blazing or the subtle approach.

-           -           -           -           -

Spike dropped, unceremoniously, onto the well-used yellow sofa residing in the Bebop's living area.  Tilting his head back, his eyes remained unfocused as his gaze shifted towards…nothingness.  His hands found their way to his pockets and removed his pack of cigarettes.  Removing one of the 'death sticks', as he so fondly thought of them, he placed it on his lips and quickly lit up.  Inhaling slowly, he let the sweet scent of tobacco fill his lungs.  He allowed the smoke to trickle out the corner of his mouth, his eyes focused on the swirling gray mass as it floated upwards.

The long chain of smoke gently rose towards the fan, where the blades neatly sliced through the column…_just like a sword_…_Vicious_.  

Spike's brow furrowed slightly.  There had been rumors of a possible coup against the Van.  Rumors that most likely held truth.  Vicious had always been ambitious, too much for his own good.  Spike certainly didn't put it past Vicious to try something like that.  He wanted power and he wasn't about to let anyone get in his way.

Spike grimaced slightly, almost imperceptibly.  _If Vicious tries a coup and fails, I become a target._  Not that it mattered anyway, but he wasn't concerned about his own safety.  _Julia becomes a target too._  The thought had occurred to him before, but it never actually felt real.  It felt like part of his previous life, the part that _was_ real.  This isn't real, is it?  _No, it can't be…just a dream._

The soft sound of footsteps pulled Spike back from his thoughts and into his dream world…reality had left him long ago.  Spike glanced in the direction of the sound.  Then turned his eyes back to the rising smoke from his cigarette.  

"So I take that it went well," Jet said more than asked.  The older man made his way to the matching, equally well-used yellow chair across from Spike.  Jet's gaze was fixed on Spike, waiting for an answer.  Spike continued to stare at the floating smoke.  "You gonna answer me?"

Spike reached into his jacket and withdrew a small card.  He flicked it onto the table, the card skidding to a halt just before falling off.  "6.6 million."

"So the shrew already took her share," Jet mumbled looking to Spike for confirmation.  Spike merely nodded.  Jet stared at Spike for a few moments, shrugged, and turned on the TV.  When Spike was in one of his moods, there's nothing you can really do.

The familiar sound of a banjo caused Spike to turn his eyes away from the smoke and to the screen.  The forms of a cowboy and cowgirl greeted his eyes.  Pulling the cigarette from his mouth, he leaned forward to get a better view.

"What have we got today Punch?" Judy asked innocently, turning towards her co-host.

"Well, let's see," Punch replied in a seemingly painful southern drawl.  "We've got a really nasty fella!  Name's John Tindera.  He's wanted for assault, battery, armed robbery, grand theft auto-"

"Round up time sugar," Judy piped in, cutting him off.

"Well, he's worth three million woolongs!"  Punch nearly shouted, holding up three fingers to accent the point.  "He was last seen on Earth-" the screen flickered and died.

"Spike, now why'd you do that?" Jet asked his partner.

"A wise man once said… 'Nothing good comes from Earth'," Spike replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"So I'm wise?" Jet missed the sarcasm, a slight smirk appearing on his face.

"With age comes wisdom, right?" Spike answered, his trademark grin appearing.

"I'm only 36!" Jet yelled back, becoming defensive.  Spike's smirk only grew larger at Jet's outburst.    "Do you really not want to go after this guy _that _much?"

Spike leaned back against the sofa, tilting his head back to once again stare at the fan blades…_just like the blade of a sword… _"It doesn't matter to me."  The sound of footsteps slowly fading into silence, once again Spike was left alone.  Alone except for his thoughts…although not for long.

The screen flickered back to life.  _It's always her…_ "Hey Faye, lose all your money already?"

"As a matter of fact, I'm up a few hundred thousand," she stated confidently.

"Then maybe you should keep it that way and get back here," he shifted so he was looking at the screen.  "We're headed for Earth."

"Earth?  Why are we going there?" she asked, obviously annoyed at the fact that she would be giving up her current streak of good luck.

"Pocket change."


	2. Pocket Change

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Pocket Change**~

"Tell me something Jet…exactly how _reliable_ is this _reliable_ information?" Spike muttered into his comm-link.   He signaled to the bartender to top off his now empty glass.  

"It's reliable, alright?" Jet's voice crackled through the comm.  "He comes here every Friday night…supposedly." 

"Supposedly?  Supposedly doesn't sound very reliable!" Faye's voice practically yelled through the link.  "And for _your _information, it's Saturday morn-" Spike reached to the small earpiece and switched it off.  Supposedly reliable information and half a bottle of scotch didn't exactly mix very well for a bounty hunt.  At least the mind numbing sensation from the scotch was enough to dull the smell.  Spike wasn't too sure, but it seemed to be somewhat like booze, vomit, and pretzels, with three-week-old cheese thrown in for good measure.  _Is there really that big of a difference in class? Ten million equals opera.  Three million equals crappy bar._  Spike grinned at the thought.  _From now on, nothing below five._

The sound of a door being opened drew Spike from his contemplations.  His eyes turned to the now filled glass, the reflection of the door and a figure on its curved surface.  Spike reluctantly pulled his head out of his arms and placed it in his hand, at the same time turning the link back on.  Static buzzed in his right ear, then slowly shifted into words.  

"Spike?  Spike you there?" Faye's voice breaking through the static.

"I'm here," Spike answered, barely moving his lips, his eyes now focused on the mirror behind the bartender.  A rather tall, dark haired man walked silently down towards the end of the bar.  A heavy leather coat covered him but Spike could see the slight outline of a holster on his back.  The only sound to come from him was his boots hitting the floor.  "That our guy?"

"Yeah, that's Tindera."

"Balls in your court.  He's armed." Spike watched as Faye made her way from the far corner towards the opposite end of the bar.  The slight sway in her hips, not to mention those extremely short yellow hot pants and top, caused every male eye in the bar to turn her direction.  

"Check out that ass," one of the guys sitting two seats down from Spike muttered.  Spike glanced over at the man.  He was currently leaning back to see around Spike and watch Faye walk, more like strut, across the bar.  Spike's eyes turned back to see Faye lean in front of him.  Spike smirked when he saw Tindera lose himself in Faye's cleavage. 

Spike knew what was next.  He saw one of Faye's hands drop to the counter and work its way behind her back.  She quickly brought her hand up, placing the barrel of her Glock against…. her own head?

"Do you really think I'm _that stupid?_" Tindera yelled, then the realization sank in.  Tindera held Faye's arm, pointing the gun back at her temple.  Spike had _not_ expected this turn of events.  The look in Faye's eyes shone with confusion, then the realization of what had just occurred.  She snapped out of her confusion and slipped back into her casual nothing-matters-in-the-world attitude.  She turned her eyes away from the imposing figure before her and looked towards Spike.  It only lasted a second before Tindera forced her gaze back towards him.

"Yeah, yeah, Faye, I got the message," Spike muttered into the comm.  Finishing the last of his drink, he set the glass back on the table.  His hand slowly made his way into his jacket.

"Hey JT!  Whatcha got there?" Spike froze with sound of the new voice.  He relaxed his grip on the handle of his pistol, and turned in the direction of the new voice.  The "ass" guy was walking down towards Faye with his bar buddy.

"Some bounty hunter wench," Tindera grinned evilly, his eyes narrowing as he turned his attention back to Faye.  She struggled helplessly against the grip on her arm and her collar.  Her demeanor faltered slightly, fear flashing in her eyes for a brief moment.  But that was all that was needed.  The fear that briefly filled her eyes made Spike cringe, but there could be more.

"Jet," he muttered through clinched teeth.  "We've got a situation."

"What?  What happened?" Jet worried voice cut through the tense silence in the bar.

"Tindera's got Faye at gun point, I haven't made a move," Spike answered, his hand once again gripping his pistol.

"I say we shouldn't waste something nice like this without having any fun first," the buddy said, reaching up and placing a hand on Faye's breast.  She tried to draw away, but Tindera's grip didn't budge.  Instead, she shut her eyes and turned her head.  The buddy snickered at her reaction.

Spike snapped.  He bolted to his feet, knocking the bar stool over.  His hand was in and out of his jacket, Jericho in hand, before the seat hit the floor.  The crash of the bar stool hitting the ground caused the three men to look his direction.  Leveling his sights, Spike's finger tightened on the trigger.  _Too late…_

A gunshot rang out within the bar.  The single 9mm round punched through Tindera's head, spraying blood across the bar.  Tindera's body slumped to the floor, taking Faye with him.  His two buddies glanced at their fallen friend, then turned to stare at the shooter.

"What the hell?  Who the fuck are you?" ass man yelled, his buddies hand slowly reaching for his gun.

"I'm her partner you little shit!" Spike yelled back, not quite sure why he was yelling, but it felt right.  "And if you don't wanna end up like 'JT' over there, get your hands out of your jacket and put 'em over your head!"  The two complied.  "Good, turn around and face the wall."  

Spike cautiously made his way down to the where the body lay.  He glanced over to check on Faye.  _She looks okay_; she was sitting a few feet away from Tindera, her gaze locked on his now lifeless eyes.  She slowly looked up, her eyes meeting Spike's.  She sat there, huddled against the bar, the confusion filling her eyes.  Slowly, he reached out his arm for her.  Hesitantly, she took his hand and he pulled her from the floor.  Faye stepped behind him, her hand clutching her pistol yet it hung forgotten at her side.  

"Head for the door, I'll follow you," Spike said coolly, never taking his eyes from the two men facing away from him.  He could feel her presence drift away from him.  Spike slowly backed towards the door, his gun still trained on the two figures.  When he finally reached the door, he pushed it open.  Taking one last look at the interior, he stepped out into the chill night air, his pistol quickly returning to its place within his jacket.

-           -           -           -           -

The fighter shuddered slightly as the landing gear made contact with the deck of the fishing ship.  Spike reached down to the controls, and removed the ignition key from the console of the Swordfish II.  Spinning the key on his finger, he quickly deposited it within his jacket; dropping it into his breast pocket.  His ship rolled to a stop as the clamps pulled the ship into the hanger.

Pressing a button on the console, the hatch slowly opened.  The hiss of the stale air that had been trapped in the cockpit escaping into the reprocessed air of the Bebop filled now silent hanger.  Spike quickly pulled his body from the seat, swinging out of the cockpit and landing on the wing with a metallic _clank_ that resounded throughout the hanger. 

Glancing around the hanger, he noticed that although Faye had docked before him, she still hadn't left the cockpit of the Redtail.  Her hunched form barely visible through the tinting of the window.  Dropping to the ground, his hands quickly found their way into his pockets, and he slowly began to make his way to her craft.  His footsteps echoing in the large metal hanger, like the ticking of a clock in a vacant room.

_Ever since the bar…she hasn't said a word…_As soon as he had made his way out of the bar, she had regained her composure.  That cool, casual…distanced attitude.  Not the normal, fiery Faye.  But a Faye who looked at the world and seemed as if she just realized this was her life. Spike knew that attitude, he knew it all too well.  It's the way of showing the world you could care less about anything that happens to everyone; including yourself.  It's when you've seen too much happen in life.  When you start thinking that you don't deserve this, you start questioning your reasons for being stuck in this hell that you call life.

_I know it all too well._

Spike slowly reached up to the side of her cockpit.  She was still in her own world, her eyes hidden, but her head looking towards the hanger door…out into space.  Glancing towards the door, Spike knew what she was going through…he'd been there before.  Wanting to leave this so-called life and find what was actually meant for you.  The job where you weren't shot at.  The job that gave you food everyday instead of one meal at a time.  The house with a green lawn, a white picket fence, a loving spouse and 2.5 children.  

Spike grinned at thought…_Would it even be possible to deal with me as a child?_

Shaking his head and clearing his thoughts, he rapped his fingers on the side of the cockpit.  Her head snapped towards him.  Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and his lighter.  Lifting one up to his lips, he lowered his eyes and watched as the flames danced from the lighter to the tip of stick of tobacco.  Inhaling, he turned his gaze back towards her, her arm now reaching towards the console to open the hatch.

A soft metallic _click_ was heard from within the cockpit, the magnetic seal releasing the hatch.  The hatch opened slightly, the quiet hissing of air filled the hanger.  The hatch slowly opened the rest of the way.  She just sat there, unmoving.  Her arms by her sides, her head hung limply from her shoulders…she looked like a rag doll. 

He exhaled slowly, the smoke lazily curling its way up towards the distant ceiling.  Faye's head turned slightly, her eyes focused on the cigarette.  _Aww…what the hell.  Might as well make peace for now. _ Flicking his wrist, the tip of a cigarette shot through the small opening.  Meeting her eyes, he offered it to her.

The slight amount of surprise shone in her eyes, the first trace of emotion he'd seen since the bar.  She hesitantly reached out and removed it.  Dropping his hand, he replaced the pack with a lighter.  Lighting the cigarette, Spike once again lowered his hand, this time, it found its way into his pockets.  He leaned back against Faye's craft, it rocked slightly, then settled with the new weight pushing against it.

They both remained in silence.  Spike watching the smoke rise to the roof, Faye's eyes returning to the hanger.  

"Spike…" she mumbled softly, the words seeming foreign.  "I…about the bounty….in the bar…I-"

"Don't worry about it," Spike answered casually, removing the smoldering butt from his lips and dropping it to the floor.

"But I-"

"We didn't need the money, no matter what Jet says," Spike didn't want to hear her say it, she didn't need to say anything.  Sometimes things just go to hell and we don't know why.  

He felt the Redtail tilt slightly, then heard her shoes hit the floor.  Tossing her a quick glance, he noticed a slightly contemplative look shone in her eyes.  She snatched the cigarette from her lips and flicked it across the room.  The smoldering butt leaving a faint trail of light as it floated through the hanger.

"I've never been…scared by a bounty head before," she said softly, almost to herself.  Spike threw her another glance, but kept looking this time.  She hung her head, almost in disgrace it seemed.  _She's never opened up to me…why is she now?_  "There was something about him…in his eyes…" She trailed off, her voice becoming a silent whisper.  Her body stood rigid, unbending; but her hand trembled slightly.  

"Faye…why _did_ you come back?" Spike asked softly.  _Maybe it has something to do with what happened_.

"I…I…came back…."she suddenly broke off, her mouth still open.  She stood like a statue, almost as if she wanted to say something, but was forcing herself not to.  After a few seconds, she closed her mouth and took an unsteady step forward…then another…then another...the hanger door slammed shut.

Spike merely stared after her, unsure what to do.  The Faye he knew did not show emotion.  The Faye he knew would not nearly break down in front of him.  The Faye he knew wouldn't…_this isn't the Faye I knew._

Author's Note: Now after reading your reviews (and thank you so much for taking the time to do that) I was somewhat tentative about posting this chapter.  I know at least one person stated that they liked the fact that the characters weren't overemotional so I was kind of afraid because I was worried that I might have made Faye a bit too emotional…although I hope it didn't seem like it.  But just trying to justify myself, remember, this happens right after _Hard Luck Woman _so Faye just realized that everything that she spent three years looking for is gone. Anyway, even if that doesn't justify it, tell me what you thought.  Oh, and I'll try to post a chapter roughly every week so you know when to look for it.


	3. Shadows of the Past

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Shadows of the Past**~

A small girl, barely a teenager.  Clothes that fit the description of some type of uniform.  A yellow shirt, the letter "U" placed on the left…a purple skirt.  A backpack containing…books…_I guess…I don't even remember…_The girl ran up a hill, passing tree after tree, the trunks separating the various driveways of the houses she ran past.  The angle of the hill began to lessen, a large house…no, mansion residing at the top.

The girl stopped at the gates, she turned her eyes back towards the hill she just climbed.  The row of white houses lining either side of the street, the deep blue ocean glittering in the distance, the light of the sun dancing off the waves.  The bridge headed to its destination: the horizon, beyond what the eye could see.

Turning back towards the house, she pushed the gates open and ran through the courtyard.  The fountain in the center spraying her with soft mist.  Stepping onto the porch, she reached up to open the door.  Before her hand could reach the handle, the door swung inward, revealing the tall, slender figure of a woman.

"Mommy!" the little girl cried, flinging her arms around the woman's waist.

"How was school?" a soft, warm voice asked.  The little girl looked up, into a pair of gentle, emerald eyes.

"You won't believe what Stacey did…" the voice faded into the farthest reaches of her mind.  The dark abyss of her memory that she couldn't reach.  A void within her mind…

Faye's eyes snapped open.  The black nothingness that she saw soon materialized into her room.  The same dismal room that she awoke to everyday…everyday for the past eight months.  _Why do I stay here?_  Her mind kept asking.  She just ignored the question; every time it came up, she ignored it.  What was the point of trying to answer a question your mind kept asking?

She knew the answer; deep down she knew the answer.  I just don't allow myself to think its true.  I can always say that I have no place else to go.  I'm not staying here because of… It's preposterous!  But…

Pushing the thoughts to the side, she knew what she needed…she needed a drink.

-           -           -           -           -

"Tell me something Spike, how do you lose _three _million after you just nabbed _ten_ million?" Jet was positively furious.  Spike just merely stared back at him, all the while trying to image Jet with a tail, a pitchfork, and little red horns.  A slight smirk appeared on his face, causing Jet to become even more vengeful, if it was possible.  "You think this is funny?  We needed that cash! That guy was money in the bank."

"We've _got_ money in the bank, if you don't remember.  We've got over five million in the bank and you're worried about three?"  Spike blurted out.  Jet was known to be a bit overly dramatic when it comes to money, and it did get tiring from time to time.  "Besides, he was a small fry."

"If he was a small fry, you should've been able to handle him.  You got an excuse for that too?"

"Uhh…it's Tuesday, does that count?" Spike asked sarcastically.  Jet groaned in frustration.  Ending the fight out of desperation, he dropped into the chair and ran his metallic hand across what hair he had left.  The two sat in silence, neither saying a word; neither needing to say anything.  Jet knew Spike was right.  They had enough money to be able to live decently for a while; and they didn't have to worry about food for the time being.  But Spike also knew Jet was right.  Tindera wasn't that big a bounty; he and Faye should have been able to handle it.  But somehow the entire thing went to hell in a hand basket faster than it takes Faye to spend her share of a bounty.

The slight squeak of a door opening drew both men from their contemplative moods and turned their eyes in the direction of the sound.  They caught a glimpse of Faye walking towards the hanger.  Jet opened his mouth to say something, but Spike cut him off with a dismissive gesture.  Jet silently closed his mouth, and silence once again filled the room, only to be broken by the sound of the hanger opening and the departure of the Redtail.

Spike rose to his feet, silently withdrawing a cigarette and his lighter.  "Don't ask," he muttered while he lit up.

"Since when do you give a crap about her?" Jet asked, a slightly confused look pasted on his grizzled face.

"I said, 'don't ask'," Spike replied, but he knew that would not get Jet off his back.  "Just…let her be for the time being," he answered while he walked towards his room.

-           -           -           -           -

_Lights…lights is what this place needs_, Faye thought as her gaze drifting across the dark and dingy bar.  The soft, hollow sound of a tenor saxophone could be heard as it floated through the smoke filled air.  The musician sat on the opposite side of the bar; his quartet of a bass, drums, piano and himself set up on a small stage.  She turned her gaze down at the empty glass before her, then signaled the bartender.  _Gren was better._

The bartender walked over to where she sat, bottle in hand.  He glanced at her face then left the bottle on the counter.  Turning her attention to the bottle, she noticed the date.  2062.  "Good year," she muttered, lifting the bottle and filling her glass.  _Yeah, I was still an ice cube, what a great year._  

"Ma'am?" a voice asked from her right side.  She looked over her shoulder, expecting to find a sleazy, stout, man with slicked hair and missing teeth.  Instead, she met the green eyes of a man that looked about twenty-five, wearing a pair of black dress slacks, a dark blue dress shirt, and a black jacket swung over his right shoulder.  "This seat taken?"

"No," she answered somewhat harshly.  _I don't exactly feel like company right now…single woman, bar, bottle of vodka, take a hint!_  "I don't think I'll be too entertaining."

"Don't worry about it," he replied, gesturing towards the quartet on stage.  "That's what they're for."  He signaled the bartender who came over quickly, his hands holding a glass and a rag.  "Scotch, nothing less than twelve years old."  The bartender turned, checked a few labels, and found what he was looking for.  Turning, he placed the glass on the counter with the bottle.

Faye stared at him for a moment. As he reached for the bottle, his black hair spilled across his face.  He filled the glass, then pulling back an errant strand that had covered one of his jade eyes.  _His eyes…something about his eyes…_

"You okay?" he asked.  He waved his hand before her eyes then asked again.  "Hey, Faye, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…" she started, then realized what he had said.  "How do you know my name?" her eyes narrowed.  

He grinned slightly and took a drink.  "I know a lot about you Faye Valentine," finishing of the rest of his drink, he set it on the counter.  He removed a few bills and placed them next to the glass, then handed Faye a card.  "It's such a common name…do you ever wonder what the real one is?"  Faye's jaw dropped and instinct kicked in; her hand slid to her pistol.  "There's no need for that.  Tell me, do you _want_ to know what the real one is?"  He pointed at the card.  "Meet me there tomorrow, at 10 o'clock."

With that, he spun on his heels and strode from the bar, Faye's eyes were fixated on the back of the man…a man with a link to her past.


	4. Dreams and Decisions

Author's Note's:    First, I am aware that for some odd reason, there is a rather large delay in the amount of time that occurs between when the story is moved to the front page of the stories to when the recently added chapter becomes available under normal methods.  For those of you who just can't get enough of my story (although I kinda have a hard time imagining that) and you absolutely have to know what happens in the next chapter, go to the address bar and the end of the link should say something like "&chapter=4".  Now if you know that there is another chapter after that, just replace the number with the following chapter and hit "Enter" and you should be taken to the next chapter.  Just throwing that out for those of you that don't like to wait on the system.

Secondly, I'm about to head into midterms within a about a week or two so if my posting become erratic, that's why.  I know it isn't the greatest excuse on the planet, but I figured that you guys deserve an explanation if I suddenly drop off the radar for a few weeks.  This fact brought me to a conclusion that it would probably be kinda hard to know what's going on in this story if you don't know when it is going to be updated, so I figured I'll do this for you guys.  If you want to, send me an e-mail and I'll creating a mailing list of for those who want it, and I'll send _you_ an e-mail whenever I update this story.  I figured you guys took the time to start reading my story, I should do all that I can to keep you up to date on what is going on.

Any who, like I said, it's an offer for those of you who wish to take me up on it.  Either way, enjoy the story and thank you ever so much for the reviews.

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Dreams and Decisions**~

_How did he know my name?  How did he know it isn't my real name?  Why he is so familiar?  _Fumbling in her pocket, she slowly withdrew the card.  

15528 East End Rd.

Former New York City, New York.

Earth, USA

She noticed there was a word imprinted on the opposite side and slowly turned the card over.

Michael T. Rollins

_Who the hell is this guy?  _

"Faye, who's Michael T. Rollins?" a slightly hushed voice asked.  Faye turned around to see Spike standing behind her, his eyes locked on the card in her hands.  She flushed slightly and placed the card back in her pocket.  "Oh…I see."

"What?  Jealous?" Faye asked, knowing what he was suspecting.  She wasn't about to let him know how far off he was; she wanted to see how much damage she could do.

"Why the hell should I be jealous?  You think I'd want a name like 'Michael Rollins'?  It's so…dull," Spike answered, making his way into the common room.  He stretched out on the sofa, his hands placed behind his head and one leg falling off the side.  "He probably thought you were a hooker, left his card, and wants a call back when you have time."

"Why you little…" she muttered, anger building up inside her.  _This is not going how I planned._

"I don't see what could have lead him to that conclusion," He smirked slightly; she knew he was going in for the kill.  "I mean, your ass only hangs out of your shorts and its not like you leave anything to the imagination."

She glared at him, her eyes locked on his smug face.  _What I'd give to wipe that smart-ass grin off of his face.  _She turned away and walked quickly from the room.

Spike grinned as she left, but footsteps soon returned to the room.  "Back for more?"

"You mess with me and you won't be eating solid food for three weeks."

"Hi to you too," Spike answered.  _Leave it to Jet to ruin my fun…Michael Rollins.  What kinda name is that?  Wait a minute…why does he sound familiar…_

_…"Drop the gun Spike, do yourself a favor," a deep voice said menacingly. Spike's eyes narrowed, his vision centered intensely on the man before him.   The owner of the voice stood less than ten feet from him, his face shadowed by long dark hair.  His hand was extended before him, a Beretta 92 gripped in his hand.  "You can't beat me Spike and you know it."_

_"I've never been one to listen to advice," Spike answered, his own finger tightening around the trigger of his Jericho.  _

_"I tried to help you, remember that," the man replied.  He grinned slightly, his head tilted slightly to the side, the light of the dim room catching his green eyes.  "Remember that when the angels come to claim you."_

_"Just shut up and let's do this," Spike's eyes narrowed, the sights of his pistol lined perfectly with his target…_

…Spike snapped out of his past, his mind struggled to focus on what was before him rather than behind. "Hey Jet, you ever hear of a guy named Michael Rollins?"

"The name doesn't ring a bell," Jet answered, then paused for a moment, deep in thought.  "Why do you ask?"

Spike focused on the rotating fan blades above him.  "I dunno…he sounds familiar to me.  Can you check him out?"

"I'll see what I can find.  Oh, and by the way, we're gonna head back to Mars tomorrow," Jet replied, making his way to the screen on the table.

"Why's that?" Spike asked, not really out of curiosity, but sheer boredom.

"Because nothing good comes from earth."

"Way to go wise man." _Why does this Rollins guy seem so familiar?  Damn, maybe I'm just losing it…_Spike thought, before his world faded.  The calling of slumber taking hold.

-           -           -           -           -

_Who the hell is this guy? _ Faye mused, her eyes focused intently upon the card before her.  _How does he know my past…what does he know about my past?  Why does he know my past?  Nobody knows my past…_

Flicking her wrist, the card was sent floating across the room.  Watching the card crash into the wall and fall to the floor, Faye dropped her head into her hands.  Strands of her hair falling forward, concealing her face.  _My past…why must it continue to come back?_

_I don't have a past…it's gone!  It doesn't exist!  There's nothing left from it!  I lived for three years…three Goddamn years without a past…why the hell is all this catching up now?  My past…my past is gone.  I don't have a past…just leave it at that._

Removing her head from her hands, she twisted slightly, resting her body on the unbearable cot that she called a bed.  _What was that Spike said…after we brought in Whitney?  _

_"Doesn't really matter does it?"_

_"Easy for you to say, you have a past."_

_"And you have a future…that's what counts."_

_So I have a future…a future of debts, lying, cheating, getting shot at and nearly getting killed…some future.  But…if he said…that I have a future…he didn't say he had one…oh why are you worrying about that moron?  He just does what he wants…doesn't care about anyone else on this ship.  Its not like he'll ever care about me._

Faye's eyes snapped open, her eyes directed at the ceiling, but her focus directed at her thoughts.  _He'll never care…about…me._  _It's the truth, and you know it, Faye.  The only person in his life is Julia…whoever the hell that is.  _She grimaced…she knew exactly what Julia was.  _Only some woman that he would go to the edge of the universe for and gladly give his life…unlike me.  I'm the bitch.  _

_Why the hell am I even listening to that idiot?  I don't know my future anymore than I know my past.  _Abruptly sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, her heels touching the cold metal floor.  Her eyes came to rest upon the card lying on the ground.  It just sat there, beckoning her to it.  It held answers.  Answers to a mystery…wrapped in an enigma…folded within a conundrum.  _The riddle of what is my past._

"Why can't this just be simple?" she muttered, raking one hand through her hair.  It just sat there.  Daring her to pick it up.  To find the answers that hid her past from her.  _That hides my past…it's still my past.  It's mine…how many things actually are mine?  _

She stood slowly, her eyes still focused on the small piece of paper.  _My past…_she stepped towards the chair next to her door; her hand lifting the pistol from its resting place.  Flicking the release, the clip slid from the base of the handle.  Noting that it was full, she pulled back the slide, her hand catching the bullet that ejected from the chamber.  Lifting the bullet, her eyes fastened themselves on the minute harbinger of death.

"Mr. Rollins, you have yourself a deal."

-           -           -           -           -

_Thwack!  _The impact of Spike's heel sent his target reeling.  The man stumbled to his right, but regained his balance.  He reached up to his mouth, wiping the corner with his thumb, Spike's face remained impassive.  The dark haired man lunged towards him, his right hand balled into a fist and aimed at his face.  Stepping to the side, Spike parried the attack and slid his left hand inward and up, his knuckles slamming into the man's nose.  

His head snapped backward, his long hair flying in all directions with the sudden motion.  Spike pivoted on the ball of his left foot, simultaneously pulling the man's arm forward.  Extending his right leg, he once again felt his right heel make contact; this time, with the back of the man's head.

He stumbled forward, the unexpected addition of force causing him to lose his balance.  The man landed face down, but quickly righted himself.  He propped himself off the ground with his left hand, his right hand open and exposed.

"Alright," the shadowed face panted, "you win."

Spike's cold impression remained etched on his face.  His mind was focused on the broken body before him, nothing else.

A brilliant white flash appeared, Spike shielded his eyes.  As he opened them, he noticed the setting had changed.  The image of a destroyed building greeted his eyes.  Large pieces of rock lay scattered across the ground.  The hardly recognizable shape of a foundation could be seen; formed with what once appeared to be a rather sizable home.  The soft sound of running water caused Spike to turn his attention to a now defunct fountain set in the middle of a courtyard. 

Shaking off the sudden change, Spike turned his attention back to the man lying in the dirt before him.

"Only I can kill you, Spike Spiegel," the man said, his voice low.  His head lowered slightly, the small movement caused the sunlight to glint off his eyes…his jade eyes.  With a flick of his wrist, the distinct silver and black shape of a Berretta 21 appeared in his hand.

Spike's hand disappeared within his jacket, then reappeared a second later, his gun in hand.  _Too late…_

The sound of a gunshot froze in the air…the passage of time slowing to a crawl with it.  The Berretta recoiled; the tip of the explosion appeared suddenly, but then vanished, leaving only the spinning form of a hollowed cylinder in its wake.  Spike's eyes focused on the small piece of spiraling metal before him.  His hand still raising his gun, he tried to focus on aiming.  His gun came to bear as the hollow point broke into his chest and fragmented, ripping into his heart and lungs.  

His weapon fired, the explosion of escaping gas was visible as the world faded from his sight…

…Spike's eyes snapped open, trying vainly to adjust to the dim interior.  His hand fell to his chest; trying to calm his breathing.  His heart beat wildly and he could feel the small beads of perspiration on his forehead slowly trickle down around his brow.  _That man…I know him…he's…he's…_

"Damn it!" Spike cursed, his hand slamming into the back of the couch.  Pulling his hand back, he wiped the sweat from his brow.  _Why can't I remember his name?_

"You know, I bought a punching bag so you _wouldn't _destroy the furniture," Jet's voice echoed through the room.  Spike glanced in the direction and grinned.  _He always looks like an idiot in that apron._  

"You got anything to eat?" Spike asked, whether or not he _wanted _to eat it was another question entirely.

"You think I like the way I look in this thing?" Jet asked, gesturing to the stained apron.

"Aww, what's wrong?" Spike grinned sardonically, "I think you look cute.  You know, like a little 'Susie Homemaker'."

Jet groaned at the remark.  He reached behind his back and undid the knot of the apron.  It loosened around his waist and he quickly pulled it over his head.  Tossing it over the back of the chair, he took a seat.  "Who was it this time?" he asked, pulling out two cigarettes.  He flicked one to Spike, who deftly caught it between two fingers.

"I don't know," Spike answered, pulling his lighter from his jacket.  "He was familiar…I know I know him, but I don't remember his name."

Jet stared at his friend for a few moments, as if considering something.  Spike returned the stare, his face blank, but his eyes held a slightly curious quality.  "Grab your jacket," Jet said suddenly.

"Uh…what?" Spike asked stunned.  Jet wasn't one to make snap decisions.

"Just grab your jacket, sitting around here and complaining about it won't help," Jet said making his way to the door.  "It's like that old saying, 'it is better to light a candle than curse the darkness'."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Spike asked, standing up, his worn jacket in hand.

"It means don't complain about something when you can do something about it," Jet answered.

"Umm…okay…hey, but what if you can't find a candle because it's dark?" Spike asked, half sarcastic, half curious.


	5. Barroom Brawl

Author's Note:  Okay, you all know that in the last update I mentioned a mailing list that I would put together for those of you that wish to have one.  Well, if you're reading this, you've probably come to the conclusion that something went wrong.  Well, you're right.  For some odd reason, an error (or a mistake on my own behalf, yeah…probably that) occurred and I lost pretty much all my e-mail.  I've gotten around the problem, and that option is still open.

I'd just like to apologize for the inconvenience of expecting one thing and getting an excuse.

Anyway, the story must go on!  And I apologize in advance for the martini joke.

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Barroom Brawl**~

The ship was silent.  That was a rare fact in its own.  But then there was the fact that she had the entire ship to herself.  She could do anything she wanted to. Well, within the realm of reason, but there was still a lot that could be done with an entire ship to yourself.  _Yeah, I've got the entire ship to myself and I'm leaving it and heading out to meet someone who supposedly has a connection to my past whom I meet in a seedy bar …God I must be out of my mind._

Faye stepped into the hanger; her Redtail sat motionless in the enormous room.  _It's still my past…so few things actually are mine…but my past is one of them._  Shaking the doubts from her mind, she hoisted the duffle bag over her shoulder and began walking towards her ship, with clear, confident steps.

-           -           -           -           -

"Hmm…. Loser Bar…speaks wonders of the place, don't it?" Spike muttered as he and Jet stepped across the wet pavement.  "So this is your solution for doing something about it?"

"You won't be complaining about it, will ya?" Jet shot back, a small grin found its way onto his grizzled face.

"That depends on how strong the drink is," Spike replied as he shoved the door open.  The smell of cigarettes and booze greeted him as the near suffocating air from inside tried to escape.  "I see they don't call it the 'Loser Bar' for nothing," Spike grumbled as he surveyed the patrons; or rather, the places where the patrons would normally be.  "Uhh, Jet.  There's no one here."

Jet's eyes wandered around the room, and just as Spike had put so bluntly, there was no one there.  The stools that lined the bar sat empty and unused.  The booths and tables were all occupied by the stale air of the room.  "I don't get it.  There isn't another open bar within fifty miles…this place should be packed," Jet mumbled, rubbing his head with his metallic hand.

"You know, you keep rubbing your head with that claw of yours and it's a wonder you still have any hair at all," Spike smirked as Jet's head snapped around to glare at him.  Ignoring the glare, Spike made his way over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of scotch.  Popping the top, he took a quick gulp and winced slightly.  "Whoa…that's some _good _stuff.  Hey Jet!  What do you want?"

"Well, if it's on the house…you wouldn't happen to know how to make a martini would you?"  Spike let out a lopsided grin and hopped over the bar and began grabbing bottle after bottle of the shelf.  "Uhh…Spike, you _do_ know what you're doing, right?"

"Of course!" Spike exclaimed, his hand reappearing with a shaker in it.  He quickly began pouring the contents of the bottles into it.  Grabbing the top of the shaker, he glanced back at Jet who returned with a wide-eyed look.  "Uhh, shaken, not stirred good for you?"

"Sure thing James," Jet replied sarcastically.  Spike just stared back at him with a confused look on his face.  "You know…Bond, James Bond.  British super spy." Spike continued his blank stare.  "Works for MI-6.  Always gets the girl?"  Nothing.  "Been around for over a century and still looks the same."  Spike just shrugs and begins shaking the shaker.  "Oh man…he's never heard of James Bond," Jet continued, almost as if the he just heard that world was going to end.  "When we get back to the Bebop, we're watching GoldenEye."

"Golden-what?" Spike asked, pouring the contents of the shaker into a glass and placing it in front of Jet.

"Never mind, it'll make sense when you see it."  Picking up the glass Jet glanced curiously at Spike.  "What, no olive?" Spike shot him a stare that would put a hole in Kevlar.  Ignoring the stare, Jet took a drink, then winced slightly.  "Too much vermouth."

"Then make it yourself next time," Spike replied, taking a drink from the shaker.  He tried not to show it, but Jet noticed it.  He winced.  "Yeah, you make 'em next time."

The window across from the bar shattered, a hail of glass and bullets pouring into the room.  Jet flung himself over the bar, nearly colliding with Spike in the process.  Spike managed to avoid the falling body of his friend and quickly dropped to the ground; his pistol removed from under his jacket as well.  Covering his head as glass from the glasses and bottles fell from the bar, Spike glanced towards Jet.  He was crouched down, his back pushed against the bar and his pistol aimed up towards the ceiling.

"Got a plan?" Jet yelled, trying to be heard over the gunfire.  Spike turned towards him, his eyes displaying that mischievous glint that Jet knew so well.  Spike's hand reached inside his jacket and withdrew the spherical form of a grenade.

"Shoot first, ask questions never?" Jet nodded in agreement.  "Head down to that end and wait for the grenade."

"I'm not an idiot," Jet mumbled as he made his way to the opposite end of the bar; trying his best to avoid the broken glass.  Spike watched as Jet ducked down behind the counter and quickly moved to the end.  _He's such a cop…_Spike observed as he watched Jet's cautious movements.  When he finally reached the end, he turned back to Spike and quickly flashed a thumbs up.  Spike pulled the pin on the grenade and silently counted to three.  In one smooth motion, he threw the grenade over his head, his hand then returned to the grip of his gun.

The gunfire suddenly ceased, followed by a quick series of indistinguishable curses and yells.  Which were then suddenly halted as the grenade detonated.  The explosion rocked the bar.  The cabinets blew out, their contents creating an assortment of liquor, utensils, and glass that coated the floor.  The cabinet behind Spike flew out, the handle catching his shoulder blade.  He grimaced slightly as a short burst of pain shot through his back, but he ignored it.  

Jumping up from his crouched position, he took aim at the nearest target.  Quickly double-tapping the trigger, his weapon recoiled and the two 9mm hollow points slammed into the target's chest.  Spinning quickly to his left, he saw a man raising a machine pistol.  _Steyr TMP's…these guys are Red Dragons!_  Quickly depressing the trigger, the man fell from view and Spike dropped back behind the bar, his mind struggling to piece together the new revelation.  _The Syndicate…they're after me…but why?  I'm dead to them unless…Vicious._

"Shit!" Spike cursed, then turned his attention to Jet who was crouched against the bar reloading his Walther.  Spike quickly made his way down to the other edge of the bar, disregarding the broken glass and other objects strewn across the floor.  The sudden movement caught Jet's eye and he looked up to see his partner coming towards him in a crouched run.

"They just keep coming," Jet muttered, flicking the lock and the slide clicked back into place.

"They're Syndicate."

"What?"

"We've gotta get outta here!" Spike yelled as the hail of gunfire continued.  "Quick, back door!"

Spike picked up a glass from the ground; somewhat amazed it wasn't broken.  _Hell, I'm amazed we're still in one piece! _ He hurled the glass down towards the other end of the bar.  It shattered across the counter, shards of glass scattered across the bar.  Spike leaped to his feet, seizing the momentary distraction he had just created.  He quickly unloaded six shells into two of the nearest Red Dragons.  The others ducked back for cover as Spike continued firing, emptying the remainder of his clip into the bar.  When his weapon clicked empty, he roughly shoved Jet through the doorway at the end of the bar.  Jet stumbled through the door and managed to land in a pile of crates.  

"Will you watch it!" Jet yelled as he turned to glare at Spike who quickly followed him through the door and in the process of trying to lock the door.

"Maybe you're just getting too old for this," Spike replied, as he managed to lock the door.  Thumbing the release on his pistol, the emptied magazine fell from the handle and he quickly replaced it with a spare and racked the slide.  He turned to look down the hallway and froze when he saw the man before him.  _Shin…_

"Quick!  This way!" he yelled, lowering his weapon.  Shin turned sharply and began walking quickly away from the two bounty hunters.

Spike stood motionless for a moment, but came back to the world when he felt an explosion shake the building.  Coming to his senses, he ran hurriedly to catch up to Shin.  Jet managed to extract himself from the pile of crates and followed as well, all the while wondering who this kid was and how he knew Spike.  Let alone how Spike trusted him so much.

"Shin, what the hell is going on?" Spike nearly yelled once he caught up to the younger man.

"Vicious tried to pull off the coup, but it backfired.  The Van knew about it.  They put him in the chamber, he's going to be executed."  Shin's voice dropped lower on the last words, "Everyone's a target…including Julia."

Spike's eyes widened…_Julia…but how?_

-           -           -           -           -

_This place…why'd he have to pick this place?_  The sound of water flowing through the broken remains of a fountain was the only sound heard in the desolate remains of a home.  The structure itself no longer existed, merely the remains of its formation rising a few inches from the ground.  The slight outline of a porch still resided near where the front door had once stood.  The stick used to create it lay off to the side, forgotten.  _Just like my past should have stayed._

Without thinking, her feet carried her towards the remnants, the remnants of her memory.  Her heels made slight indentations in the soft ground, nearly a mirror image of the tracks she had left before.  Her hands drifted at her side, forgotten just as her steps were.  Her mind blocked out everything save the lifeless remains before her.  A small sigh escaped her lips, _there's no one around for miles…it doesn't matter._  Biting her lower lip, she felt as if she was going to drop to her knees; abandon all the self-respect she had…_what little is left…_and just let go.

That's when she heard the soft, steady…ominous sound that she knew oh so well.  Footsteps.

Whirling around, facing the direction they were coming from, she watched quietly.  Her eyes narrowed and aimed themselves in the direction of the sound.  Her face displayed a grim determination, her mind unsure of whether she should stand and wait, run, or just shoot the person.

"Quite a lovely day, wouldn't you say, Ms. Valentine?" a deep voice asked.  

Not just any voice, it was that voice…_that voice from the bar._  Her mind then came to a decision.  _Shoot him.  _But her curiosity took control before her trigger finger could.  "Why did you bring me here?"

"It's your home, is it not?" came his reply, as he appeared walking up the hill.  A smug grin placed on his face.

"It _was_ my home," Faye replied with venom.

"Well, that all falls in what your definition of a home is," he answered in a calm, casual tone, completely dismissing Faye's irritation.  "If to you, a home is a place that you live, then a cardboard box could be considered your home if you make it your residence.  But if a home is a place where you not only live, but you feel welcome and have people who care about you, then a home is a hard thing to find."  He continued walking past her, his footsteps bringing him into the ruins of her...her…_my house._

"What is a home to you Faye?" he asked, leaning down to examine an area of the rubble. Lifting a piece of stone, he cast it aside and his gaze returned to what was beneath it.  Again he reached into the rubble, but this time with both hands.  Faye began walking towards him, wondering what exactly it was that he was doing.  Then she saw it; there was a door.

The hinges groaned in protest as the wooden door was pulled upward.  Dust and soot fell from it as it was hoisted up, revealing a stairway leading down into the ground.  She looked back at him, the grin still shown on his face.

"What is a home to you?" he asked again, before stepping through the doorway and following the stairs down into the shadows.


	6. Revelations

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Revelations**~

Spike dropped onto the worn yellow couch, his lengthy limbs flying in every direction.  Finally getting himself settled, his right leg ended up on the ground, his left propped on the sofa.  His left arm draped across the back of the couch and his right across his chest.

Jet stumbled through the doorway and the room to the chair across from him.  "I can't believe it took us so long to ditch those guys."

"They're Red Dragons, they aren't exactly street thugs loaded up on whatever drugs they can find."

"I understand that, but…I still don't get it…why is the Syndicate after us?  Let alone travel to Earth just to get us!"

Spike remained silent, the sound of Shin's words running through his head.  A soft beeping sound pulled him from his thoughts.  He glanced over to the monitor.  "You've got mail."

Jet stared at his partner for a few moments before turning his attention to the screen.  Tapping the keyboard, an image of an aging police officer filled the screen.  "Donnelley?"

"Hey Jet," the older officer greeted his former comrade.  "I got that info you requested."

"Really?  That sure was fast for an old guy like you," Jet answered only half surprised.

"Yeah, well, it isn't like the 'Black Dog' is still as black.   In a few years you might be called the 'Gray Dog'," Donnelley shot back, but immediately turned serious.  "That guy you asked me to look up, Michael Rollins."

"Yeah, what about him?"

"He doesn't exist."

"What?" Jet exclaimed.  Spike decided to sit up at that point, his attention fully devoted to the screen.

"What do you mean?" Spike asked, his voice low.

"The name is real, the person isn't.  It's an alias.  We were able to find that it belongs to this guy," the black and white image of a man appeared on the screen.  It had obviously been taken at a distance through the lack of clarity given to the figure.  But even so, Spike recognized him immediately.

"That's him!" he yelled, slamming his hand down on the table.

"That's who?" Jet asked confused.

"That's him!  That's the guy from my dream!" Spike looked closer at the image, then turned to the vitals displayed on the right.  "Age: unknown, weight: unknown, height: unknown, is there anything that you do know about this guy?"

"We know his code name; Seraph.  That and the fact that he's wanted for nearly every crime we have a law against."

"Does he have a bounty?" Jet asked.

"Umm…I don't think that's a good idea," Donnelley replied hesitantly.

"Just tell me," Jet pushed farther.

"Fifty  million, dead or alive."

"I've never heard that one before," Spike mentioned, completely ignoring the price on his head.

"That's because it's never been done before," Donnelley answered.  "They want this guy so bad they don't care how he comes in."

Spike stood from the sofa and began walking towards the hanger, but suddenly stopped in mid-stride.  "Just one more thing.  Does he have any connection with any Syndicates?"

"None that we know of.  From what we can tell, he's completely freelance.  Meaning he might have worked for them, but we don't have any records of it," Donnelley answered after a few moments of thought.

Spike nodded, then continued on his way to the Swordfish II.

-           -           -           -           -

The sudden acceleration forced Spike's body to conform to the stiff seat in the cockpit of the Swordfish II.  The so-called runway of the Bebop became a gray blur as it rushed past, all clarity removed at speeds rapidly approaching the sound barrier.  Pulling back on the two handles, the ship's bow rose from the horizon created by the runway and Spike angled the fighter away the fishing ship.  

"Spike, what's the plan?" Jet voice crackled through the comm.

"Try and get a hold of Faye will ya?" Spike replied, turning the ship towards the upper atmosphere.  The comm was silent for a few moments.  _So Vicious is to be executed…he won't let that happen.  The Van must have become more senile if they think putting him in the chamber will do anything.  _Spike's eyes narrowed slightly.  _They should have just had him killed when they caught him…but no, in the immense knowledge of everything, they're going to try and teach him a lesson…those morons._

"Spike.  Do you read me?"

"Yeah, what's up on your end?"

"I couldn't get her, she must have her comm off or she just isn't picking up," Jet replied, Spike muttered a curse under his breath.  "But I was able trace the residual from the call."

"The what?  Wait, scratch that, where is she?"

"Hang on, I'll send you the coordinates."

-           -           -           -           -

The stench of disuse and neglect assaulted Faye's nostrils as she stepped into the cellar.  The light from the morning sun streaming through the opening above the stairway illuminated a rectangular area of to the left of the stairs.  The light also catching the millions of dust particles floating through the air; beyond that, the room was as dark as night.  Reaching into her jacket, Faye removed her lighter and quickly flicked it with her thumb.  A small spark and a flame sprouted to life, casting a small amount of light across the cluttered room.

She heard a soft click and turned in its direction to see a cone of light streaming from a figure.  The soft glow from the flashlight covered about ten feet before colliding with piles of cardboard boxes stacked against a wall.  Faye crossed the short distance from where she was to where the boxes were stacked.

"You might want to use this instead," Michael's voice resounded through the room.  She turned towards the voice and saw him extending a cylindrical object in her direction.  Reaching out, she took the flashlight from his hand and fumbled to find the switch.  Finally finding it, she flicked the switch on and a beam of light extended from the end to land on his face.  "You wanna watch where you're pointing that thing?"

Faye grinned slightly and turned her attention back to the boxes.  _I don't remember this place at all…_ she thought as she looked at the many boxes stacked on the wall.  Picking up one of the boxes, she gingerly pulled it off the pile and placed it on the concrete floor.  Bringing the flashlight up, she aimed the light at the top of the box.  A single word was written across the top: Toys.

_Toys?…could this really be…I don't believe this…but its my home…my home…_Quickly opening the top of the box, the light shone on something she never expected…_my toys._  Faye's hand nervously reached into the box, afraid that a sudden movement might destroy whatever she found.  She slowly removed a small doll.  It wasn't really much to look at, but just the sight of it caused a small smile to come to her lips…

_"Let me show you something sweetie," her Mother's voice beckoned.  Heeding her mother's words, a small child no more than five years of age, came running through the halls; narrowly avoiding a collision with the tan cocker spaniel that was lying in the hallway.  The dog watched as the purple haired girl went bounding down the hall and into her mother's room before he decided it didn't concern him and went back to sleep._

_"What is it Mom?" Faye asked cheerfully, a slight giggle escaping at the fact that her Mom had something to give her._

_"Look at this," her Mother said quietly, removing the cover of a small box that rested on her lap.  It revealed a small, dark-haired doll with green eyes.  The doll wore a white summer dress that was covered in small red flowers and on its head was a straw hat.  In one of its hands it held a small basket.  _

_"It's pretty Mommy," the small girl observed from her mother's side.  _

_"My Mother gave it to me when I was a little girl.  Now I want to give it to you."_

_"Really?" Faye leapt to her feet in excitement.  Her Mother only nodded.  She threw her arms around her Mother's neck.  "Thanks Mommy!"_

_"Your welcome sweetie," her Mother answered…_

Faye's eyes refocused on the small doll held in her hand.  The doll was exactly as she had remembered.  It was just too amazing to her.  _I actually have something from my past, something that ties me to my memories…_Placing the doll in her jacket; she turned her attention back to the other boxes.  After searching through a few, she found what she was looking for, a box labeled: Pictures.

Pulling the top of the box open, she found a dust covered photo album and a few scattered pictures.  There was a word written across the front of the box but she couldn't make it out.  Cleaning the dust off the cover with her hand, she adjusted the flashlight so she could make out the word.  Faye.

She nearly dropped the album right there.  These were pictures of her.  Pictures of her friends …her family…her life.  Tentatively, she pulled back the cover and found something she thought she would never see…her childhood.  There were pictures of her with her friends, playing sports, her birthday parties…it was just too much.  She flipped through page after page of images, none of which she completely recognized.  But there were enough vague memories to know who these people are.  _Who these people were…I'll never know them other than through these pictures…_

A barely audible, extremely choked sob escaped her throat.  _I'll just know the pictures; I'll never know the people._

"Faye, what's wrong?" the sound of another voice startled her from her thoughts and she managed the control herself.

"Nothing…nothing's wrong," she forced the reply.

"People don't cry over nothing Faye."

_Would he even understand?  Why did he bring me here?  Oh screw it!  _"All I'll ever know are these pictures!  I'll never know the people in them!  I'll never know them anymore than I knew them fifty years ago!"  She bit off the last words, trying to make them sound as harsh and unfeeling as possible but knowing that it was utterly in vain.  "And I wasn't crying!"

The soft sound of footsteps grew steadily louder as he came closer.  He crouched beside her and looked down at the photo album lying on the ground before her.  "Can I show you something?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible.  

All Faye managed to do was shrug.  He picked up the album and began flipping through pages until he apparently found what he was looking for.  Spinning the book around, he placed it before her and pointed at a picture displaying four people standing outside an airport.  Faye looked at the image then turned the page, it was blank.  Then the next, blank.  The rest of the book was blank.  _This must have been the last picture taken of me…_

"You see anything interesting?" Michael's voice echoed within the confines of the room.  Faye turned back to the picture.  There was her father and her mother standing next to her and a man.  _So there's my mom and my dad…but who's that…wait, those eyes…it can't be…_Green eyes, long dark-hair, same facial features, _hell even the same height._  She turned to glare at Michael.

"It's you…it's you!  How the hell are you there!" she screamed.  _This doesn't make any sense!_

"You really wanna know?"

"Of course I wanna know you dumb ass!  What kinda stupid question is that?"

"I'm your brother."

"My…brother?" Faye was dumbfounded.  She was more than dumbfounded; she was completely blindsided.

"I'm your older brother, I was on the shuttle as well when the accident happened.  I was put into suspended animation, just like you, but I was brought out six years ago.  I was told that my sister was cryogenically frozen but they couldn't tell me who it was since all the records were lost from the gate accident and I had no memory of the events either."  He was talking slowly, deliberately, obviously trying to calm her down.  It was working, to an extent.

_My brother, he was in the accident too…that must be why he seemed so familiar.  I already knew him.  But if he was in suspended animation for fifty years, but doesn't he have a debt?_  "But…don't you have a debt for the fifty years you were frozen?"

"It was termed null and void in a legal matter because I was in no condition to make the choice to be frozen myself, I just merely was, so the court overturned the debt."  Faye winced slightly at what he said, she knew it was plausible, that's what should have happened to her, she just got shafted with a scam artist as a lawyer.

"But how…how can you just show up-" Faye began, but was cut off as the roar of an engine shook the room.


	7. Disclosure

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Disclosure**~

The ground streaked by at a dizzying rate as Spike maneuvered the Swordfish II above the partially destroyed buildings and craters.  Glancing down at the HUD, he slowly eased up on the throttle until the coordinates came into view.  Over flying the area once, he circled around to come in to land.

Bringing the fighter about, Spike spotted the Redtail parked about a hundred feet from the crest of the hill.  Swinging the fighter around, he engaged the downward thrusters.  The fighter slowed and came to rest; hovering about twenty feet above the ground.  The fighter slowly began to descend, the landing gear extending from the undercarriage.  The landing gear came into contact with the ground and groaned in protest as the mono-racer came to rest on the three protruding struts.

Flicking the release on the cockpit, the armored ring around the monopod rose slowly from its resting place around the cockpit.  As the ring locked into place, the seals on the pod released, the sudden decompression causing Spike's ears to pop.  _I hate Earth_.  He wasn't exactly sure what it was about the blue sphere that bothered him so; but it did.  _Maybe it's the smell?_

Ignoring his annoyance with the planet, Spike pulled himself from the cramped cockpit and surveyed the surrounding area.  Off to his left and right were rows of houses; well, they were houses at one point.  It was probably a tract when they were originally built; but the meteorites had made short work of them.

Looking towards the front of his fighter, he saw an area that most likely held a house at one point in time, but that time was years ago.  All that remained were the shattered remnants of a fountain and a fence that surrounded the property; and the gate was open.

Spike dropped to the ground, a rather audible _thud_ coming from his soft soil as his feet collided with the dirt.  His right hand tightened into a fist, then relaxed and found its way into his pocket.  Step after step, he casually made his way into the desolate ruins.  His eyes taking in every detail, the slight indentations in the ground where feet had once traveled, one set of prints had been wearing heels.  _So Faye is here.  That means Rollins…or Seraph, or whatever the hell his name is, is here too._

The soft, barely audible sound of footsteps came to his ears.  Glancing in the direction of the sound, a female figure slowly rose from the ground, a purple-haired female figure.  _Faye…she doesn't know that Rollins is wanted…this probably isn't going to be pretty…_

"Spike?  What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded as soon as her eyes found her comrade.  Spike opened his mouth to reply, but quickly choose against it when he saw the man following Faye.  Dark hair, slender face, no doubt about it, it was him.  Seraph's eyes narrowed when he saw Spike, a slight tinge of recognition flashed through them before they became impassive.  Spike's eyes fell to his clothing; the man stood before him rather well dressed considering the occasion.  Dark dress slacks and a slightly ruffled dark blue shirt, a black jacket over it.

"Faye, get away from him," Spike's voice retained its casual air, but the undertones hinted of danger.

"What?"

"I said get away from him."

"Oh, so now you're jealous," Faye grinned slightly.  Spike groaned at the absurdity of the statement.  _I don't need this.  _Spike's hand slid from his pocket to the handle of his pistol.  In one smooth motion, the handgun came from under his jacket and its sights were leveled on the man standing barely fifteen feet away.  "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm giving you one chance, get away from him right now Faye," Spike's voice dropped dangerously low, his words forced through clinched teeth.  Faye turned from Spike to look at Rollins, seemingly considering her options.  _What the hell is going on here? She wouldn't do this for anyone…_  Faye turned back to Spike, her jaw set tight.  Then she did something Spike would always remember; she drew her gun.  Spike flinched slightly…_the damn woman's lost her frickin' mind._

"I'm gonna ask you once; what the hell is going on Spike?" Her question, pointed and direct as always, hung in the air, the tension seemingly slowing any answer he could formulate.

"Why are you protecting him?"

"He's my brother."

_Well now, this is getting interesting.  _"Your brother?  I kinda doubt that." Spike scoffed at her answer.

"Oh?  And why's that?"

"Because you don't even know his real name."  Faye's brow furrowed, she knew what was coming.  He had an ace up his sleeve and she knew there was nothing she could do but play along.

"His name…is Michael," she answered softly, with as much confidence as she could force into those four words, but she knew it wouldn't hold up.

"His name is Seraph," Rollins' right hand slipped under his jacket at the sound of that name.  "At least, that's what his _code_ name is, they don't even know the real one.  And he's worth fifty million woolongs," Faye stood silently, her gun still aimed at Spike, but the barrel was slowly descending.  Spike watched as her eyes glazed over, as she withdrew into her own mind.  He knew what he just did to her.  She must have seen something…anything that would have convinced her that he truly _is _her brother.  _And I just pulled the rug right out from under her_.

That's when he noticed Seraph…_shit; he's going for a gun…now or never.  _"Faye, move."

"I…"

"Faye, move now!"

She spun to look at Seraph.  He pulled his hand swiftly from within his jacket, a black Beretta 92 gripped in it.  _My God, I know that gun!  It actually is him!_  Faye's eyes widened when she saw the weapon; she tried to pivot to bring her gun around but it wasn't quick enough.  But her movement gave Spike enough clearance.  He fired.

The bullet impacted on his right shoulder, entering just underneath his collarbone.  The metal shredded the muscle and exited his back, breaking through the shoulder blade.  Seraph's arm jerked to the side, his finger depressing the trigger.  His weapon recoiled, the wild shot striking Faye's upper left torso, just barely missing her lung.  The impact caused her to lose her balance.  She stumbled backward, struggling to remain standing, when her foot slipped out from under her and she tumbled to the ground.  Seraph staggered backwards, trying to move his arm.  Grimacing, he forced his wounded arm to take aim at Spike.  Spike meanwhile, hadn't lost sight of his target.

"Let's finish this now," Spike spoke threateningly, his left eye twitching slightly.

"Not here," Seraph shifted his weight and with a speed surprising even Spike, his left hand pulled something from his jacket and hurled it at Spike.  The small object exploded, a searing white light filled the sky.  Spike dove to his side, sliding to a halt behind a piece of rubble.  Waiting a few seconds, the light gradually resided and he cautiously leaned around the debris to see…absolutely nothing.

Picking up a small rock, Spike tossed it a few feet to his left and waited.  The only sound was the soft, labored breathing of his wounded comrade.  Pushing himself off the ground, Spike took another cursory survey of the area.  Seeing nothing, he made his way over to Faye.  She was still lying face up on the ground, her eyelids partially closed.  As Spike's shadow passed over her face, her eyes slowly slid open.  "What took you so long?" she breathed, her voice raspy.

"Will you shut up and pass out already, you're much easier to deal with unconscious," Spike answered, crouching next to her.  Pulling down her jacket, he could see where the bullet entered, but he needed to check if it was still in there.  Gingerly placing his hands underneath her back and neck, he rolled her on to her side.  He glanced up at her face when he heard a sharp intake of air.  "This might hurt a little."

"Lunkhead," she muttered and Spike turned his eyes back to the wound.  The bullet had exited at her upper back leaving a clean hole.  Weighing his options, Spike quickly went to the task of removing the red jacket.  "You're not doing what I think you're doing, are you?"

"I dunno, are you thinking that I'm gonna use your jacket to dress your wound?"

"Yeah."

"Then you're right."

"Spike, why don't you use yours?  I'm a woman, my clothes need to be maintained at a higher standard…meaning they don't get drenched in blood!" she winced slightly as he pulled the jacket off her torso.

"Look, when I get shot up, use my clothes.  When you get shot up, we use yours.  Alright?"  Spike wrapped the jacket around her shoulder and her neck, hoping that it would keep enough pressure on it to keep the bleeding to a minimum.  Faye groaned in response, her eyes returning to their half-open, half-closed state.  "Do you think you can walk?"

Silence ensued the question.  Spike glanced up at her face.  Her eyes were closed, her breathing somewhat shallow, but for the most part it had returned to normal.  _Great, she's conscious long enough to complain and now I get to do all the heavy lifting.  _He lifted her up in his arms, trying to keep from moving her wounded appendage.  Her head flopped gracelessly to one side, coming to rest on his shoulder.  Spike let out a soft groan at the pure irony of the situation.  He quickly made his way to his ship before he realized that this was not going to be a comfortable trip.  Spike stood staring at his single person cockpit and contemplating the possibility of cramming one tall lanky bounty hunter accompanied by his unconscious, wounded, and bleeding partner when he came to the only logical conclusion: call Jet.

And while the green haired bounty hunter pleaded his case, a small doll lay amidst a pile of rubble; unknown and forgotten.


	8. Excuses and Explanations

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Excuses and Explanations**~

The low, distant hum of the engines rumbled throughout the ship.  The soft, barely noticeable vibrations traveled through every crack, crevice, and dent that filled the hull of the rusted fishing ship.  The sound ultimately fell upon the deaf ears of the bandaged and unconscious Faye Valentine.  She rested peacefully…_amazingly enough_…sprawled across the dilapidated yellow couch.  Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, her slightly labored breathing caused by the layers of bandages wrapped tightly around her left shoulder.  

She stirred slightly from her comatose state, her eyelids gradually sliding open.  Her eyes struggled to focus on the single, most recognizable object on the ship: the ceiling fan.  She furrowed her brow, obviously trying to comprehend the seemingly sudden location change.  _I wonder if I always look like that after I get shot up?_

With a soft grunt, she pushed herself onto her elbows.  Taking a deep breath, she held the position for a few seconds, gritting her teeth slightly.  Deciding it was now or never, she continued to push herself up until she quickly stopped.  She winced slightly, then made a motion to lie back down.  She stopped abruptly, as if all of a sudden realizing that she was not alone in the room.  With a new resurgence of strength and determination; she forced herself, painfully, to sit up.

"I always knew I was a motivational force in your life," Spike was hardly able to conceal the grin that usually adorned his face.

Faye's eyes narrowed, her glare turning deathly.  "Lunkhead."

"That's _Mister _Lunkhead to you.  I saved your ass, twice."

"And how many times have I come to _your _rescue?" Faye retorted sharply.  Spike looked away, a feigned look of concentration on his face; he even started counting on his fingers.  After a few moments, he looked back at her and merely shrugged.

"Come to my rescue, or actually succeeded?"  Faye groaned and tried to lean back against the couch and instantly regretted it.  Instead, she quickly returned to the position she had recently occupied.  Spike smirked slightly at Faye's predicament, not particularly sadistic, more like revenge for all the times he was the 'mummy' on the ship.

"How long have I been out?" her voice was timid, unusual for the woman across from him, but he decided to humor her.

"About a day…we left that dust ball of a planet about thirteen hours ago, we oughta be on Mars in about three or four," Spike answered reaching into his jacket and removed a box of cigarettes from his breast pocket.  Faye's eyes noticed the movement and her gaze quickly fastened itself on the small box.  With a quick flick of his wrist, Spike sent one cigarette shooting through the small opening.  Removing his lighter, he quickly lit up, his eyes turning from the flame to the person across from him.  Following the direction her eyes were aimed, he quickly came upon the pack of smokes.

Glancing back at Faye, he noticed how she had shifted her gaze to the blank screen sitting on the table.  _I must be going soft._  Leaning forward, he offered her a cigarette.  She either didn't notice or just ignored him.  Clearing his throat, she turned her head toward him, slightly annoyed.  Then she saw what he was doing.  "I don't need your hospitality."

"I'm offering a cigarette to a gimp, I'm not saying I'm gonna wait on you hand and foot."

She seemed to consider this argument for a second, then took the cigarette.  She lit up, placing the lighter back on the table.  Spike took a moment to consider this tentative truce that he had created and decided it would probably be the best…_and easiest_…time to fill her in.  Reaching into his jacket, he removed a folded piece of paper.  Unfolding it and placing it on the table, he spun it around for Faye to read.

"Michael Rollins, a.k.a. Jonathan Simmons, a.k.a. well, you get the picture.  The only thing confirmed about him is that picture and his code name: Seraph," Spike jabbed his right index finger down on the image to emphasize the point.

"The highest order of angels," Faye murmured, her eyes drawn to the picture.

"This guy's no angel.  He's wanted for practically everything they have a law against.  Plus multiple counts on all the really nasty ones," Spike leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head.  "He's a freelancer, a contract-killer.  He'll do anything to anybody for the right price."  Faye's eyes had yet to leave the image.  She merely stared, her eyes locked on the image yet vacant at the same time.  _She's in her own world._   "Faye…why did you believe that he's your brother?"

"Because…because I remember him," her words came out tentatively, almost as if she didn't believe them herself.

"Faye…are you sure, that it was him?  Are you sure that he _is _the person you remember?" Spike didn't really want to ask the question…_I've already screwed this up too much…but I've gotta make sure she can take this._

"I'm…sure…I just…I don't know damn it!" she slammed her right hand down on the table with such tenacity it made Spike shudder.

"Faye-"

"I do!  I remember…someone…I think it was him…" Her words came out softly, trailing into nothingness.  It was almost if she was forcing herself to believe her own words.  _She doesn't know…what the hell did he show her?_

"Faye, what did he show you?" Spike asked tentatively, although his words didn't show it.  He spoke in a calm and collected manner, hoping to keep from sparking another outburst.

"He showed me…a picture of my family…me and my parents…standing outside the…terminal…he was in the picture with us."

Spike's eyes were focused intently on her; studying and trying to read her reactions.  But his search was futile.  She just continued to sit, her body rigid and unwavering; her face completely clear of any emotion.  Her eyes were slightly glazed; they remained locked on the image resting on the table.  Her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly, causing her to wince briefly, but that was all the emotion shown.

Giving up on trying to understand her or, much less help her, Spike turned his attention to the screen on the table.  He flipped the small switch on the corner and the screen flickered to life.   The image of a blond woman sitting behind a desk appeared on the monitor.

"Good evening, this is CBC News at ten o'clock and I'm Sheryl Williams," she began in an overly cheery voice.  _It always seems odd that no matter how much crap there is in the world, news casters are always happy._  Spike swung a leg up and propped it atop the table.

"Tonight on our top stories.  First off we have had reports of a shootout between rival members of the Red Dragon Syndicate. We are unsure of the severity of these actions, but there have been unconfirmed reports of there being more than twenty fatalities.  The ISSP are looking into the situation but there are no answers as of this time.  We'll return to this story once more information becomes available."

-           -           -           -           -

"Do you have the girl?"

"The situation became complicated," Seraph's voice wavered slightly.  He glanced out down the deserted street once again.  His eyes trying to cope with the stark contrasts between the street lights and the shadows.  The lights seemed to run on for an eternity, continuing down the never-ending stretch of pavement until they both met the horizon.  The street was barren of activity, not a soul dared to venture out.  Reports of the shootout had spread across every news cast on Mars.  Anyone within a twenty mile radius of a Red Dragon building didn't dare to venture outside; or if they did, it was to get farther away.

"What kind of complications?" the icy voice asked.

"Spiegel showed up.  He blew my cover," Seraph's voice lowered a tone.  He was still unsure of exactly how the bounty hunter knew who he was.  He must have connections within ISSP…_He must have a very extensive range of contacts.  Much broader than I would have expected._

"I'm not paying you for excuses."

"And I'm not making them.  I'm telling you what happened because _you asked_," annoyance flashed through his voice, but quickly disappeared.  _The man may be annoying, but he pays pretty damn well._

"So you failed."

"I haven't failed yet.  She was wounded, she'll be easier to get to," this line of questioning was becoming very tiresome.  He glanced down at his watch: 11:27.

"Spike will be more alert now that she's injured."

"For the amount of money I'm getting paid to bring in one little girl, there should be _some_ type of risk involved," Seraph grinned slightly at the audacity of the statement.  Then a realization dawned on him.  "Oh…just a thought, nice job of putting the bounty on my head."

"What makes you think I did it?" the voice mocked.

"Look, there are only two types of people that I deal with: those who pay me, and the others had a cheap funeral with a closed casket.  You're the only one with the balls to put a bounty on me and think that you'll live."

"Fine, I did it.  You were moving too slow."

"I almost had her!" he practically screamed.  _For something like this, it takes more than merely a few days…  _"No bounty hunter in their right mind passes up fifty million woolongs without a glance!  What are you, fucking insane?"

"For the amount I'm paying you, it should be done in an expedient manner," the voice on the other end of the line dropped a few tones lower, causing Seraph to instantly regret his outburst.

"Maybe so, but now it's going to take longer," he answered, trying to get control of his anger.  _I may be the best in the business…but you don't screw with this guy…_

"You have four days, max.  Any longer and bounty hunters won't be the only ones looking for you."  The statement sent a slight shiver down his spine.  Despite the fact that the man was threatening him every other minute, somewhere deep in his mind, Seraph knew he was serious.

"She'll be there in three," Seraph's lip turned up slightly.  "By the way, it's nice to know you think so highly of me."

"Just remember, you _are_ expendable."

"The best are _not_ expendable."

"You give yourself too much credit, just get the girl."  The line clicked, then silence.  The soft, continuous hum of dial tone replaced the sinister voice.

Seraph placed the receiver back into the cradle.  Stepping out into the crisp night air, a strong wind swept across the street; his dark coat flowed out, swaying gently in the breeze.  Turning towards the wind, he slowly made his way down the desolate street, his body merging with the shadows, almost as if he ceased to exist…


	9. Angel Eyes

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Angel Eyes**~

Faye's eyes snapped open, her vision once again coming to rest upon the steadily rotating blades a few feet above her.  Slowly, and carefully, she hoisted herself to a sitting position on the couch.  Taking a deep breath, she tried to move her left arm.  A fresh wave of pain shot through her side, but she forced herself to keep it moving.  The pain dulled slightly, but remained until she lowered the stiff limb back to its resting place.

"You know, if you keep doing that, you'll rip your stitches."

Faye turned to see Jet standing in the doorway.  Glancing back at her arm, she clenched her hand into a fist, then slowly released it, making sure all her motor functions still worked.  "How long have I been out?"

"'Bout two days, off and on.  Hungry?"  Jet asked in a slightly amused tone.

Faye opened her mouth to respond, but her stomach beat it off the starting line.  Jet grinned slightly and made his way to the kitchen.

Faye leaned back against the couch, ignoring the pain that came with the movement, then she noticed the table.  Turning her attention towards it, she saw the remains of a half-played game of solitaire.  Standing up slowly, she made her way to the opposite side of the table.  She stared absent-mindedly at the seven rows…_he must've gotten really bored…_then she noticed something amiss.  The eight of clubs was on the nine of spades.  _He must have left in a hurry.  _A glint of light caught the corner of her eye; glancing down at the floor, she saw his lighter.

_What the hell happened?_

-           -           -           -           -

_Damn it, I need a cigarette…_Spike's eyes gazed out across the dark and dreary sky.  The dark gray clouds threatening to release deluge.  The streets were empty; anyone with half a brain wouldn't be outside at this time.  _Half a brain or a good excuse._

The reports of the shootout were never confirmed.  Not too surprising, all things considered.  The Dragons probably had every ISSP cop that was at the scene on their payroll.  Plus the Dragons had a way of getting people to do what they wanted.  Their philosophy was let the Red Dragons deal with Red Dragon problems.  The actions taken against those who had threatened this code of conduct caused those unfortunate souls to meet a rather untimely and unmerciful demise.  Needless to say, that incentive for the ISSP agents managed to keep them from turning over any new leads; and without any new information, the story had slipped from barely worthy front-page to an afterthought on the seventh.

Not surprising also, people are still afraid to step onto the streets.

Spike leaned back against the red brick building.  _Why the hell am I even here?_  Spike's mind asked for the umpteenth time.  But he knew.  He knew why he was here.  Why he was standing at the corner of two deserted streets.  Why he had grabbed his jacket and gun and ran for the Swordfish without a second thought.  It was all because of two things.

An address.

And a name.

A name that had haunted him for three years.  _Three years…God, three years of waiting, hoping, wishing, and…waiting.  Three years of not knowing if I'll see her again.  Three long years of not knowing…_

"Spike Spiegel?" a voice asked casually from behind.

Spike turned slowly, his left hand concealed within his pocket, his right on his gun.  Spike eyed the man cautiously.  _Barely a man, he can't be more than eighteen…he's a lackey…_Spike observed as he took note of the Syndicate uniform.  "Yeah, what is it?"

The kid's hand went inside his jacket, and Spike reacted instantly.  His left hand snapped out, grabbing him by his collar and slamming him against the wall.  His right hand jammed his pistol against the kid's temple.  The kid's eyes shone with complete confusion, he was utterly at a loss as to what just occurred.  Then slowly he realized that he was held against a brick wall by a man whom was one of the few men feared by the Syndicate.  And that man's 9mm was pointed directly at his skull.  "I was only sent to give you something!"

"Give me what?" Spike demanded sharply.  The kid slowly removed a blank white envelope from within his jacket.  Spike looked at the envelope briefly then turned his impassive stare back at the kid.  "Who's it from?  Who sent you?"

"I don't know," he replied weakly.  Spike pushed the barrel deeper into his skin.  "I swear it, I don't know!  All I know is to give it to you and it came from the top!"

Spike released his grip on the kid's collar, grabbed the envelope and holstered his gun.  "Here's some free advice, get out of the Syndicate.  There are plenty of people who don't ask questions at all and just let their gun do the talking."  The kid's eyes widened, he stared at Spike for a few moments before deciding to remove himself from the area.  Spike had forgotten the kid before he had even left his sight.  His mind was focused on the small envelope in his hand.  _It came straight from the top?  What does the Van have to do with me?  Wait…_

_"There have been reports of a shootout between rival members of the Red Dragon Syndicate.  We are unsure of the severity of these actions, but there have been unconfirmed reports of there being more than twenty fatalities.  The ISSP…"_

_The coup…the coup actually happened!  Vicious is in control!_  Spike looked back down at the envelope.  Quickly tearing off one end, he dumped the contents into his empty hand.  A ring fell into his hand.  A simple gold band with no design, no insignia, just a gold band.  _No…no it can't be…it just can't…_

He slowly tilted the ring, silently wishing that it wouldn't be there.  But in his mind, in the deepest recesses of his mind, he knew it would be there.  There was no reason to give him this ring if it wasn't.  _No…God damn it…it is there…just like it was three years ago…just one word_: Dreamer.

Spike slammed his fist into the brick wall; he winced briefly as a fresh wave of pain shot through his arm.  Pulling his hand away, he paid no mind to the bloody and torn flesh. He turned his attention back to the envelope; there was still something in it.  Reaching into the envelope, he withdrew the rest of its contents; and nearly gagged.  He turned his eyes away; his mouth was quickly covered by his hand.  Slowly, he looked back, the image never actually leaving his mind.  He once again had to force himself not to gag.

Spike's grip loosened, the picture fluttered to the ground, finally coming to rest facing the now ominous sky.  Spike staggered away, wishing he had never received that phone call, wishing she had come with him, wishing many things but none of which had come true.  And as Spike slowly walked away, the soft sound of rain striking the ground gradually reaching his ears, drowning out his unasked and unanswered question…_Why?_

Behind him, the rain pelted an image lying on the ground.  An image of a girl.  An image of what had been an angel_…my angel…_once.  Not anymore, the angel had become what all dread most.  A lifeless shell, something that everyone would become, in one way or another.  

But she took the most gruesome way.

The image of a bruised, beaten, and bloody body.  Her face was barely recognizable, covered in blood, bruises and slices.  Her mouth hung open in an eternal and silent scream.  Her hair, the hair that had once been a golden blond, was now nearly a dark crimson save for a few specks of its former brilliance.  Her arms had been bound behind her back, hidden from view; but what could been seen, slashes had destroyed.  There were multiple knife wounds in her chest, but it was probably the slit across her neck that caused her death.

But her eyes, her eyes were the worst.  They remained open, ever watchful even in her endless slumber.  But they screamed of agony.  An agony one could only know once, but one that should never be known to anyone.

An image of his love.  An image of his angel.

And over that image was one word:

_Vicious._


	10. Questions

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Questions**~

_Twelve…thirteen…fourteen…fifteen…_the now filled magazine was placed haphazardly on the table; a pile of six similar black columns alongside it.  Spike picked up one of the three pistols lying on the table.  Gripping the Browning HP with both hands, he lined the sights against the wall.  Slowly, he applied pressure on the trigger until the hammer slammed down and the firing pin shot into the empty chamber.  The soft click resounded through the empty room, the sound of death knocking.  Twisting the pistol, he pulled back the slide; it locked into place, fully open, waiting for a magazine and a bullet.

Loading the pistol, his eyes focused intently on the weapon in his hand. _This is it…there is no turning back.  I've run from this long enough._

"When I was still on the force, I…well," Spike turned his gaze from the pistol to the man at the doorway.  Jet was leaning against the wall, still wearing that stupid apron.  "Just…tell me you know what you're doing."

Spike remained silent for a few moments, a slight grin spreading across his lips.  "Once there was a tiger stripped cat.  Now the tiger striped cat lived a million lives and had been owned by various people, but he never really cared for any of them.

"Then, one time, he became a stray cat.  That meant he could go and do anything he wanted.  Well one day, he met a white cat.  They spent all of their days together and the tiger striped cat couldn't have been happier.

"Now, as time went on, the white cat grew old and died.  The tiger striped cat cried a million times and he died as well, but he didn't come back."  The silence after his words hung in the air.  Jet snubbed out his waning cigarette before looking back at Spike; who was, once again, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling fan.

"It's a good story," Jet finally answered the long silent, unasked question.  Spike broke his staring match with the fan and turned towards him.

"I hate that story."

"Huh…what?"

"I've always hated cats, you know that," Spike smirked as Jet broke into laughter.  Spike soon followed suit.  The sound of their laughter echoed through the halls and gradually receded as the two regained their composure.  They sat in silence, the slow steady rhythm of the ceiling fan filling the room.  Spike reached for his Jericho and placed it within his jacket, followed by three grenades and countless magazines.  Pulling his trench coat from the back of the couch, he slowly stood, putting the jacket over the faded blue suit.  "Jet…do you ever…regret losing your arm?"

Jet snapped out of his silent reverie and turned towards Spike, considering the question and wondering if he heard him right.  "Well…yeah…when it first happened," he paused, deep in thought.  "But after I left the force, I realized I was living in the past-" Spike's eyes snapped towards him with that statement.  "-and it became part of me…and life goes on."  Jet cast a contemplative look down at his arm, then turned back to Spike.  The green-haired man had a far off look in his mismatched eyes.  Abruptly, he shook his head, clearing his thoughts, forcing himself back along his decided course.

"Spike," the trench coated warrior turned to the ex-cop, "If you make it through this thing…well, just make it through."

Spike grinned slightly at the remark and continued through the doorway.  The sound of his footsteps filled the halls; the slow, methodical rhythm, almost as if a bell swaying to and fro, high atop the cathedral.  Each footstep ringing clear as day, in its foreboding nature; for it was painfully obvious for whom the bell tolled.

_Click!_  "Where are you going?"  Spike stopped walking, body relaxed.  "Why are you going?"  There was a slight tremor in her voice, hardly noticeable, but Spike heard it.  He had heard it before, before in the hanger.  He glanced casually to the side, the only thing he knew to expect was the barrel of a gun, but besides that, his mind was blank.  And there she was, arm outstretched, pistol gripped tightly, a single movement would send a spiraling piece of metal directly into his forehead.  It was that image, yet again; the image of Faye's barrel aimed, unwaveringly, at his head.  But it didn't bother him…no, it didn't bother him.  Heading off to face your mortal enemy and best friend does that for a person.

Her grim, determined face was rather interesting, it displayed features that he had never seen before, but it quickly faltered.  Her entire body lost its rigid stance, her arm falling to her side; pistol clutched in hand, yet no longer a threat.  "You told me once to forget the past…because it doesn't matter," _I knew those words would come back to haunt me.  _Her voice had lost its edge, it became softer, almost withdrawn.  "But you're the one still tied to the past Spike!"

Spike shifted slowly, turning his entire body to face her.  Quickly leaning forward, she drew back slightly and he stopped a few inches from her face.  "Look at my eyes Faye.  One of them is a fake because I lost I it in an accident," his voice dropped a few degrees, but her eyes remained locked on his.  "Since then, I've been seeing the past in one eye; and the present in the other…so I thought I could only see patches of reality, never the whole picture…"

"Don't tell me things like that," her voice was quivering and rushed, a slightly frightened tone held within.  "You've never told me anything about yourself…so don't tell me now!"

"I felt like I was watching a dream, a dream I would never wake up from," the words came out slow, even, detached; there was no emotion whatsoever held within them.  The sense of fear in her eyes was obvious, whether it was for his well being or merely her own fear of abandonment, Spike didn't know…he didn't really care.  Her breathing was shallow, almost ragged, as if she was forcing herself to do it.  "Hmm…and before I knew it, the dream was all over."  He quickly pulled away from her, distancing himself form the person before him.  Making a move to pass her, he slowly walked down the hall, his steps ringing in the air.

"My memories…finally came back," her words filled with a sound of…_rejection?…no, defeat._  "But nothing good came of it," she sounded almost on the verge of tears.  "There was no place for me to return to," her hand hung quivering at her side.  "That's why I came back Spike…this was the only place I could go, this is…you asked me why in the hanger…I knew then but I didn't believe it.  This is my home.  With Jet and Ed and Ein and…and you."  Her voice was building, the anger beginning to mount.  "And now you're leaving, just like that!"  Her voice shook the ground, filled with contempt but immediately softening, "Why do you have to go?  Where are you going?  What are you going to do?" she sounded as if she were a lost child…_but that's really what she is…she may not be a child, but she's lost everything._  "You're just going to throw you're life away like it was nothing!  You're just going to go there to die?"

"Every man dies, but not every man lives…I'm not going there to die, I'm going to find out if I'm really alive."  He slowly took a step forward, then another, then another.  There was a soft sob, but it was quickly drowned out by the sound of a gunshot…fired harmlessly into the air.  The brief silence that followed was filled by another…then another…each drowning out the muffled sobs that were fading into the distance…

The sound of metal hitting metal, the clatter of her pistol falling from her hand and striking the ground hung in the air.  Still, she didn't notice it.  The sound echoed through the empty hallways, the vacuous realm that existed around her…that always had.  _It doesn't matter anymore…does it?  You saw this coming…you knew it would happen…why did you expect any different? The questions remained unanswered, floating in the void within and around her.  __I've never trusted anyone before…what made me trust him?  Why did I actually think that lunkhead would actually stay in my life?  Still…he's gone…he picked death over life…death over us.  Her body slumped against the nearby wall; her lower lip trembled slightly, but was quickly ceased as her teeth bit down against it.  A small wave a pain joined the feeling of abandonment that filled her body, but it was shed quickly through the tears that were coming to her eyes._

The sound of a voice filled the air, but the words never reached her ears.  Her body remained in its position, her back against the wall as the world passed her by.  Then the words were there again, still unintelligible, but closer. Faye slowly brought her head towards the source, not knowing what to expect.  The image was not clear by any means, but even through the tears, she knew the man before her and it sent a chill through her spine.  And that was before she realized what was happening; he was holding a gun.

"Kick the gun over here," his voice was low and hard-edged, the danger was inherent in that type of voice.  Still, Faye did not comply; she only lowered her head once again to stare blindly at the metal floor, her pistol still resting by her feet.  "I won't miss like you did, now kick it over."

_Comply…or not to comply, that is the question…well not really a question.  It doesn't really matter anymore, does it?  That is the question.  Spike's a dead man.  His little spiel about finding out whether he's alive or not is bullshit.  Pure, unadulterated bullshit.  He knows he's a dead man but he left anyway.  Gee…that situation sounds familiar…go with Seraph, I'm dead…fight, I'm probably dead anyway…so what does it matter?  What does it fucking matter!_

Faye pulled her foot back to kick the pistol forward, but whipped it forward with a vengeance.  Her foot quickly covered the distance between the ground and his hand and the force of her kick sent the weapon careening down the hallway.  Stunned by the sudden movement, Seraph turned back towards Faye just in time to see her foot coming towards his head.  Her foot collided with his skull and sent him reeling into the wall.  Balancing himself, he glared at the woman before him.  Faye turned her head slightly to face him, the rest of he body perpendicular to the wall.

She suddenly lashed out, the back of her left fist smashing into his head, followed by a right uppercut to his jaw.  Spinning to her left, she used the momentum to send her right leg crashing into his side, resulting in a highly satisfying _crunch!  Recovering quickly though, his left arm suddenly wrapped itself around her leg, holding it in position.  Finding herself off balance, she bobbled slightly to remain standing._

Seraph took advantage of the situation and dropped to his knees, sweeping his right foot out and across the floor.  It caught Faye's remaining leg and she fell to the floor.  The sudden exertion rapidly caught up to her body as a sharp, burning sensation shot through her shoulder.   Seraph struggled to his feet, his left hand rubbing his right shoulder gingerly while his head was still spinning from Faye's sudden and vicious actions.  He slowly picked her weapon up from the ground and pointed it at the crumpled form before him.

"We could have done this the easy way, but no, you just had to be a bitch," his voice was venomous, the words cold and harsh.  He lifted his arm and quickly brought the pistol downward, the butt of the handle striking the back of her head.  She slumped to the ground, her face slamming into the metal floor.  "Damn it, how come no one ever takes a threat seriously?"  

Stooping down, he gently brought the back of his hand across her cheek.  "Sorry sis, but business is business."  With that, he lifted the unconscious Faye over his shoulder and slowly made his way from the hallway, passing a man with a metal arm and an apron who was slumped against a wall, out cold.


	11. Bang

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Bang**~

Raindrops pelted the matted green hair of the bounty hunter.  But neither the rain, the cold, nor the dreary weather affected the solemn figure; it was merely there, just as he was.  Although the weather was much more benevolent than he.  He glanced upward at the immense structure before him, this foreboding visage burning its way into his impassive gaze.  Without a care or a thought, he glanced around his surroundings.

The faint light provided by the obscured moon and the sparsely positioned street lights disclosed a few details of his dimly lit surroundings.  Numerous garbage containers littered one side of the alleyway, the other was filled with what should have been in them.  And through the mouth of the alley, just across the street, he could see his objective.  That brightly lit building standing hundreds of feet high.  A building that any respectable business would kill to have; only the current occupants did take that stretch and had the lack of morals to do it.  It just stood there, a gleaming homage to the fact that crime does pay.

Removing the cigarette from his lips, he cast it off into the darkness.  The smoldering butt left a slight trail of smoke as it fell to the ground, fizzling as it came to rest in one of the many puddles covering the ground.  Stepping towards the building, his foot had barely touched the light when a black limousine pulled before the building.  Quickly removing his foot from the light, Spike disappeared once again into the shadows.

The limousine came to a halt, one of the doormen made his way down the steps outside the sliding glass doors and opened the rear door of the vehicle.  A man stepped from the car, his black trench coat billowing out behind him as if it were some kind of cape.  He flicked up the collar as the rain lashed mercilessly against his body.  He turned back to the vehicle, his hand moving inside his jacket to remove a pistol, then he ushered the other occupant out of the limousine with it.  Off in the distance, a brief flash of lighting covered the image with a ghastly white light…_how fitting…Seraph._

The other passenger emerged, a little less willing than the first.  Spike could have been blind and still known who it was.  The body language, that same unmistakable air  of arrogance that filled the space around her, even if she was stepping into the lion's den; and even though the lack of light made it difficult to see, he assumed her hair was purple.  Without any more force, she was led inside by the group of men that had quickly exited the car after her, their weapons drawn.

_This doesn't change a thing.  Don't concern yourself with her…Spike's brow cringed slightly__…she's collateral…then back to nothing.  Taking a deep breath, he exhaled into the cool night air, his breath coming out in a cloud of vapor.  Reaching into his coat, he removed one of the three grenades strapped to the inside of his jacket.  Pulling the pin, he shoved it back into his pocket while still holding the handle.  His other hand found the grip of his pistol, tucked within the recesses of his coat.  And in a quick and determined motion, he stepped from the shadows and into the light.  The dream was going to end…__and I'm gonna end it._

His footsteps brought him to the double sliding doors, and the lone gunman walked silently through the opening.  The same doors he had walked through all those years before, it had come full circle…an interesting rite of passage.  The doors slid open, the chill air from outside drawn into the warm building.  The lanky bounty hunter walked without apprehension, without fear, he merely walked.  The lobby was filled with Red Dragons, each one lazily conversing with another, in the carefree attitude that comes from over confidence.  A few glanced up at the new arrival, most merely dismissing him as inconsequential.  A small grin found its way onto Spike's face_…the element of surprise…Spike 1, Red Dragons 0.  Pulling the grenade from his pocket, he released the handle and dropped it to the floor.  It bounced slightly at his feet, before he kicked towards the largest group.  By the time they noticed the small explosive, it was already too late._

The resulting explosion ripped through the lobby, the glass façade of the mighty building exploded outwards as the shockwave expanded.  In less than a second, the lobby was bristling with armed Syndicate goons, each gun trained on the green haired lunatic.  But the lunatic moved with an inhuman speed, darting across the smoke- filled lobby towards the escalators at the opposite end.  

He dove towards the rising stairs and landed hard against the metal grooves.  Ignoring the pain, he lifted his Jericho and fired at the two men standing at the base of the escalator.  Pivoting quickly, he double-tapped the trigger, both bullets slamming into the guard at the top.  Pulling a small device from his jacket, he placed the small pack of SEMTEX against the side of escalator.

Reaching the top, he broke into a sprint as gunfire from the ground floor sprayed across the ceiling, the walls and the glass railing near the reckless gunman, yet nothing hit him.  Glancing back, he saw a group of men charging up the escalator.  Quickly dropping to the ground, he pulled the detonator from underneath his jacket.  Calmly depressing the switch, the room shuddered as the explosion tore through the metal stairs and the bodies amongst it.  Pieces of burning metal flew through the air, the escalator quickly becoming a massive fragmentation grenade as the metal became molten bits of shrapnel, colliding with the guards below.

Ignoring the cries from below, Spike pushed himself from the ground as smoke began to billow from what once was an escalator.  He broke into a sprint, not even looking back to admire his handiwork, his eyes were set on the goal before him, the elevator.  At an arms reach, he slammed his fist down on the call button before ducking behind one of the columns surrounding the large metal doors.  He waited patiently for the familiar _ding as bullets ricocheted around his body._

The familiar sound broke through the tense atmosphere and the metal doors slid open.  Reaching around the stone column, he fired a few blind shots before rushing through the open doors, continuously firing blindly.  Slamming his fist onto the top floor, the doors slowly slid shut as bullets bounced harmlessly against the thick metal.  The metal cocoon began to rise, taking the gunman closer to his fate.  He flicked the release on the pistol and the magazine fell to the ground, bouncing off to the opposite side.  He pulled a new clip from his jacket and slid it into the base of the pistol.  Reaching back into his jacket, he withdrew the remaining grenades.  Pulling both pins, he waited until the elevator came to a stop.

The two metal doors slid open, a hail of bullets ripping through the doorway and slamming into the rear of the elevator.  Apparently the guards noticed that there was no one in the elevator and stopped firing.  Taking advantage of the cease fire, Spike lobbed the two grenades down the hallway and ducked back into the elevator as the dual explosions ripped across the floor, stifling the cries of the men.

Dashing out the door, he faintly heard the two doors slide closed behind him.  His attention drifted to the hallway on his right.  He charged down the deserted hall, his eyes scanning the area for the slightest movement.  His left hand slid into his jacket, clutching the Browning HP and quickly removing it from within.  A slight reflection shown down the hall, causing Spike to bring both weapons to bear, but he realized it was only another elevator.

Skidding to a halt, Spike backed against the wall opposite the elevators, the design of the building created a T-junction leaving one blind corner…_and probably another guard…Taking a deep breath, he spun around the corner, both pistols taking aim at the lone Dragon in the hallway.  The guard spotted the green haired man and moved to bring his pistol up.  Both took aim at the same time and all three pistols fired, bullets and casings flying through the air.  The Dragon took two; one in the stomach and the other impacting his chest and decimating his heart.  One of the guard's bullets flew true however, striking Spike's left shoulder, blood bursting out the back as the bullet ripped through.  Clutching his shoulder with his right hand, his body shuddered as the last fifteen minutes of adrenaline and exertion rapidly caught up to him, but he forced himself to ignore the feeling when the familiar __ding of an elevator came to his ears._

Bracing himself, he pulled his hand away from his shoulder and pointed the Jericho at the two metal doors.  The doors slid open, and Spike's finger tightened as Glock 19 was leveled at his head.  A slight flutter of recognition flashed across the other's eyes as Spike held his fire.  

"Shin…" he gasped, barely audible.  Releasing the trigger, Spike lowered his weapon.  Without a word, Shin moved past him, placing himself between the bounty hunter and the guard that had appeared down the hall.  Double-tapping the trigger, his weapon recoiled, changing the aim slightly, causing the first bullet to impact the guard's chest while the second struck just above his left eye.  The guard's head snapped backward, the lifeless gunman falling to the floor before he could get off a single shot.

"Where's Vicious?" Spike asked harshly, his words speeding from his mouth before the guard's body hit the ground.

"He's on the top floor, this way!" Shin yelled back, his eyes darting back and forth, kept constantly alert by the muffled yells of men on other floors.  Before Spike could say anything in response, Shin made his way down the hall.

Spike, without any further deliberation, followed the young turncoat down the hallway, but stopped after a few feet to place another charge against the wall.  Hearing heavy footsteps, he bolted towards the end of the hallway, practically diving around the corner as a torrent of lead filled the air behind him.  Quickly regaining his balance, he pulled the detonator from within his jacket and slammed his thumb down on the switch; a soft _beep sounded, the precursor to the massive explosion that ripped through the hallway behind him…__They didn't even know what hit 'em…_

About twenty feet ahead, he could see Shin slow to a stop, a set of large wooden doors on his right.  Shin turned back towards him as he pressed the final key in the sequence into the keypad near the door.  Giving him a small grin, Shin flashed a thumbs up as the lock clicked open.  Returning the gesture, Spike's eyes widened as a figure came around the corner at the far end of the hallway.  

In a sequence of actions that appeared to happen both at a snail's pace and all too quickly, Spike brought his gun up to aim at the guard down the hallway, calling out Shin's name in the process.  The young man turned to look at the green-haired man as the guard at the end of the hall brought his Steyr TMP to bear.  Spike dove to his left, trying to draw the guard's aim away from his friend as Shin spun around to face his assailant, bringing his weapon up as well.  All three weapons fired.

Both Spike and Shin's bullets found their mark, one fragmenting in the guards chest, shattering bone and organ alike with the other slamming into his jaw, breaking through the bone and ripping an empty gash where his windpipe would be.  The spray of bullets the guard's automatic let out managed to catch Shin's upper leg, shredding his thigh and just barely missing his femur.  As his leg gave out from the weight above it, Spike rushed over to his fallen friend.

"Look…I'll be fine, the only ones who know I've traded sides are dead…they'll just treat me like every other wounded…go stop Vicious," Spike nodded slightly, then turned back to the door.  Pulling the handle, the doors flew open, a long hallway standing between himself and his destiny.  Himself and his enemy.

_Me and my best friend._

Charging down the hallway, the objects around him began to form a single image.  A blur, speeding past the sides of his head as he rushed down the hallway.  And suddenly the monotony was broken.  Another pair of doors, just a speck in the distance, but gradually coming closer.  Without another thought, he slammed the doors open, and an explosion rocked the building…

_This is gonna end…and I'm gonna end it…_

-           -           -           -           -

Rain and debris fell from above, the remains of the ceiling trickling down around him.  The lone gunman stood before a massive staircase; his fate, his foe, his friend standing at the top.  The pale moon cast a soft glow across the two former friends before the clouds concealed it once again.  Both stood unwavering, waiting for some silent signal to begin the battle.  But that signal would not come yet…

"So you've finally accepted your fate?" Vicious' cold voice echoed through the partially destroyed room, the chilling undertones washed over Spike as he stared back at his foe and remained motionless.

"Why did you kill her?" Spike voice was soft, but with strength no mortal man should have been able to possess.  

"She got in the way."

"But you loved her!"

"Love and sex are two different things," the corner of Vicious' lip turned upward at that remark as he watched Spike's façade falter slightly.  A flash of anger, then nothing.  "You never were able to protect women."

A door to the right slid open, drawing Spike's attention away from his nemesis to the two figures that entered the room.  Seraph brought Faye into the room, his left arm holding her arms behind her back while his right held a pistol to her head.  Faye eyes scanned the room, finding Vicious standing just across from her, she slowed her pace, but resumed it once Seraph pushed the Beretta into the back of her skull.  The motion offset her vision and she saw Spike standing at the base of the staircase.  In the brief second that their eyes met, he saw a small flash of hope slip through her eyes.

Vicious glanced over towards Seraph and gave him a small nod.  Without a word, Seraph shoved Faye forward and promptly went back the direction he came.  The sudden motion caused Faye to stumble, but she caught herself on the railing before she could fall.  As she brought her head back up, anger had replaced the hopeless look of before.  She took a step towards Vicious but that was as far as she got.

"Faye, stay out of this!"  The sudden shout from below caused her to lose her nerve and she stopped in mid-stride.

"Ahh…still trying to protect the woman," Vicious' mocking tone filled the room.

"She's got nothing to do with this, why's she even here?" Spike demanded, his right hand tightening around his pistol.

"She has a connection to you…but more importantly, she owes us money."

"Us?" 

"The Syndicate," Vicious replied nonchalantly.  Spike turned a questioning stare towards Faye but it was obvious she was as clueless as he was.  "She owes us 300 million woolongs."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Faye shouted, her voice straining.  "I owe that for being frozen for fifty years after the shuttle accident"

"The shuttle accident?" Vicious scoffed, a slight sneer coming to his face.  "You actually thought that it was an accident?  With the technology we have today, even with that of fifty years ago, 'accidents' don't happen."

"But…but my…" she slumped to the ground, her knees striking the wet tiled floor.

"Yes, your family, rather terrible tragedy wasn't it?  Too bad James Simmons was also killed in the 'accident' along with them," Vicious answered with a venomous tone.  "You wouldn't even be alive today without the Syndicate."

"Vicious…" Spike snarled from the base of the stairs.

"The company that saved you, Paradyme correct?  Its a front for the Syndicate," Vicious turned from Faye, a sadistic grin on his lips as he focused on Spike.  "It's funny how you always end up with the Syndicate whore."

Spike snapped, his hand was in and out of his jacket, Jericho clutched in hand before a second had passed by.  The first shot fired to far to the right, just barely grazing Vicious' left arm.  The second missed completely as Vicious dropped to a crouch.  Without a second thought, Spike charged the stairs, letting lose another shot, missing by inches.  Vicious' hand dropped to his boot and pulled a small knife from the side and with a flick of his wrist sent it flying towards Spike.  The knife bit into his left shoulder, blood pouring from the wound, but it only served as a hindrance, easily ignored.

Reaching to the top of the stairs, Spike dove at Vicious, hitting the ground and going into a roll, narrowing avoiding the horizontal slice of Vicious' sheathed sword.  Quickly coming to his feet, Spike charged back towards his opponent.  Pushing his gun forward, the trigger guard collided with the steel blade of Vicious' half unsheathed sword.  Sparks skipped across where the two weapons met as Spike rapidly fired four bullets, the last of which nicked the side of Vicious' face.

Enraged, Vicious shoved Spike backward with a resurgence of strength and fully unsheathed his sword bringing the blade in a horizontal slice and striking Spike's left thigh.  The blade sliced through the thin blue suit and tore into his muscle, blood spurting from the wound as Spike staggered backwards.  Vicious brought the sword around once again, striking the barrel and causing Spike's shot to miss wildly.  Bringing the sword back around, Spike dropped to his knees as the blade cleaved its way through the air above his head.  Bringing his pistol to bear, he fired a single shot.  The bullet covered the distance and slammed into Vicious' side, tearing through the flesh and leaving the man gasping for air.

Charging back at Spike, Vicious brought his sword upward in a horizontal slice, Spike quickly brought his gun up to block the slice and the blade struck the bottom of the barrel, causing Spike to loosen his grip and accidentally fire a round.  The bullet slammed into Vicious' right shoulder.  The impact of the bullet forced Vicious to let go of the katana, both weapons landing on the ground before its opponent, Spike's hand latched onto the handle of the sword while Vicious' foot was placed firmly over the grip of Spike's gun.

The two locked gazes, both men knowing that their decisions were that of fate itself.  That both of them would not walk away from this battle.  And in an instant, a single, unknown signal passed between the two and Vicious kicked the pistol towards Spike as he threw the sword back to its owner.  

Vicious grabbed the hilt of the katana in midair and flicked his wrist slightly, causing the weapon to reorient itself before bringing the sword back around in a long, arcing slice.  

Spike's hand fell to the ground, his hand wrapping itself around the metal grip as the Jericho slid towards him.  In a single movement, he brought the pistol from the ground and took aim at the man before him.

The pistol recoiled, the bullet speeding from the barrel at a speed barely comprehendible by the human mind.  A tenth of a second after the bullet took flight; the tip of Vicious' katana tore through the tattered blue suit and cleaved its way into Spike's stomach.  Before that same second had passed, the hollow point found its mark, tearing into Vicious' chest and exploding around itself, the bullet tearing itself apart as it entered his chest; shards of metal buried themselves in the man's internal organs.  Vicious' eyes snapped open, shock covering his face as he felt his life slip away.  The katana fell to the ground, released from its master's grip, just before its master fell to the ground beside it.

Spike struggled to remain standing, his left arm firmly placed over the large wound covering his stomach.  His eyes fell to his fallen friend, and almost pained look filled his face before it became impassive once again.  Turning his gaze away from the body before him, it gradually came upon Faye.  An expression of horror filled her face.  He managed to force his lips to curve into his trademark grin for a few seconds, assuaging her shocked visage for a few moments, but then it faltered.

Slowly raising his right arm, he shaped his hand into the form of a gun.  He pointed the mock pistol at her and cocked his arm.  

"Bang…"

His strength failed, his body crumpled to the ground, his gaze becoming a blurred view of the heavens.  He faintly heard Faye yell his name before a rush of footsteps came to his ears.  He could feel the warmth of a body next to him.  He glanced to his left and there she was.  Unbelievable as it seemed, she was right next to him.  His angel.  She smiled gently at him, her marred body no longer there, she was just as he remembered her.  She cast her silent gaze at him as her golden hair partially obscured her face.  She pushed it back with one hand before shook her head, the smile still remaining, her voice ringing in his head; clear as the day he met her…

_…It isn't time yet…_

With a nod of her head, she gestured to his right.  Slowly, he rolled his head towards the opposite side, not wanting to lose sight of this heavenly visage.  Gradually shifting his vision, he came upon Faye, kneeling next to him; when she saw his eyes, she grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Spike!  Damn it, can you hear me!" her words were muffled by the ringing in his head.  Then it hit him…

"Its…all a dream…isn't it?" he barely managed to mumble.  Her eyes locked on him, her face turning a few shades whiter.

"No!  This is real!  Damn it Spike don't say shit like that!  Spike!  Stay with me…" her words where drowned into the void of black.  The only piece of reality that remained with him were her last three words, repeating over and over in this endless abyss…

…_Stay with me…_


	12. Connections

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the delay, originally, I had planned on ending this fic pretty much where it is now (just with a short epilogue) but after rereading the story, the overall plot development doesn't coincide with that ending and I feel that it would make it seem incomplete.  So I've been working on blocking out what would have been the next story so I can add it on to this.  Anywho, here's more of _Fallen Seraphim_.

Sorry about the wait.

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Connections**~

_Funny…I didn't think he'd win…_Seraph's finger loosened on the trigger of the Remington rifle placed against his shoulder; his right eye remained fastened to the scope however.  The image before him was astounding.  A man that no one had ever really heard of, just single-handedly decimated the most powerful Syndicate known in existence…_and he's still standing._

Seraph watched from his vantage on the opposite side of the roof.  His body was concealed amidst the rubble, his rifle aimed at the duel that had just occurred.  He still couldn't believe it.  A gun versus a sword…_who fucking uses a sword nowadays? _

He almost felt sorry for leaving his sister with the likes of those two…_technically I'm still here though…_but in order to keep the cash, he needed to leave.  Since Spike won, it's not that bad.  He and Faye managed to live on a ship together without killing each other and they obviously have _some_ feelings for each other so he's not going to kill her.  Vicious on the other hand…_well, that's why I stuck around_.  

That's when he saw it; Spike raised his arm, a gun in hand.  Seraph's finger tightened on the trigger, the hammer just millimeters from falling when he saw the weapon…it was just his hand.  Somewhat confused, Seraph released the trigger as he saw Spike make a mock firing then collapse on the ground…_maybe he gotta bit more beat up than I thought…  _Through the scope, Seraph watched as Faye ran towards the wounded man, dropping to her knees and calling his name.  She grabbed him by the shoulders and Seraph could almost see his mouth move…_man's got nine lives…_

The sound of footsteps came to his ears, and that could only mean one thing.  Quickly getting to his feet, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and made his way to the stairs near the edge of what had been the roof.  Reaching inside his jacket, he removed a small cylindrical device with a series of buttons on the grip with a single trigger located on the top.  Flicking one the buttons, a green light flickered to life at the base and a soft _beep_ emanated from the device…

…The steps led to the room below…_well, It was hardly a room anymore…_but amidst the rubble were twenty or thirty armed Syndicate goons.  Each had their weapon out.  Each had their weapon trained on the hunched female form.  They were obviously unsure of what to do, their entire leadership had been wiped out first by Vicious, then by Spike, who was currently laying in a pool of his own blood.  They didn't know who to follow and that made this a much more dangerous situation…_and I'm gonna make it worse…_

Letting out a soft whistle, the guards turned toward the newcomer.  After a few tense seconds of jaws clenching and knuckles turning white, one of the group appointed himself the leader…_and spoke with a real diplomatic flair too…_Seraph smirked.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm the guy who's gonna tell you what do," he answered sharply.

"What makes you think we're gonna listen to you?" the man shot back, obviously becoming accustomed to the sound of his own voice…_accustomed, but not too bright…_

"Because I'm the one with the bomb dumbass."

The leader's façade faltered and he took a slight step back, accompanied by the rest of his entourage, "You're bluffing."

"Oh really?" Seraph slowly pulled the metal cylinder from behind his back.  In their eyes, he watched each guard tense as he lifted his arm.  "At the base of this building, are four vans.  Each van is carrying roughly two hundred pounds of high explosives.  Each one is parked at a corner of this building.  Each is tied to this detonator, once I flcik this switch," he flicked the red piece covering the switch, "they go active and they cannot be deactivated from anyway except my ship and with my password.  Oh, and did I mention, that the timer is only set for ten minutes?"

"What…what do you want?" the "leader" stuttered, his fear taking hold.

"Them," Seraph answered, gesturing towards Faye and the unconscious Spike.  "Those are the terms…take 'em," in one smooth motion, he brought his thumb over the switch, and ten minutes was running, "or leave 'em."

The self-proclaimed leader glanced towards the rest of the group.  Each returned and unsteady gaze before the leader turned back to Seraph.  Without a word, he waved him off with his gun.

Silently, he turned towards Faye; he body still crouched over Spike who, to Seraph's amazement, was still breathing.  "Grab him, we've got fifteen minutes to get outta here."  Her head lifted slightly, her gaze rising from her fallen comrade to meet her former captor.

"You said ten."

"They move faster with less time," his face softened, almost imperceptibly, but still she noticed it.  "Come on sis, let's get out of here."

-           -           -           -           -

The sound of rotating fan blades slowly brought Spike back from the abyss.  The black mist that had obscured his view for so long was being pulled away from his eyes.  The world came to him in a dimly lit haze devoid of any detail; then it began to take shape.  His eyes began to readjust after the long period of disuse and he saw something familiar amidst the haze…the ceiling fan.  But before he could comprehend the ultimate meaning of the sight, a soft voice brought him out of his forced contemplation.

"So you finally woke up," it almost sounded like there was a small sense of…_happiness?…no, probably just relief that the cash flow is still alive…_His eyes slid over toward the direction of the voice and there she was, just as before, sitting across from him with a deck of cards.

"We were starting to wonder about you…you've been out for four weeks…Jet thought you might end up a vegetable," her voice was soft, almost compassionate…_it's almost like it's not even her…_

Slowly and painfully, he brought his arm up and made a gesture for her to come closer.  Her eyes locked on his hand, almost as if she couldn't believe what she saw.  She hesitated first, then cautiously made her way towards him.  Once she reached his side, she carefully leaned of his body, tilting her head slightly; her right ear just inches away from his bandaged body.  She heard a muffled intake of air before he spoke.

"Sing for me." 

His words came out in a labored tone, his voice filled with the gravely tone of neglect.  But despite all this, she still heard his words and her head snapped towards his face, emerald eyes meeting mismatched amber.  The soft features of her face hardened and she pulled away.

"Why the hell should I?  You'll probably call me tone deaf or-" she never finished her sentence, her words were halted as she felt something brush her hand.  She glanced downward to see a bandaged hand lightly gripping hers.  Her eyes turned back to him, almost not believing what had just occurred, let alone trying to comprehend it.

"Please…"

His voice echoed within the silent room…and gradually the word began to reverberate within his own mind.  His vision blurred slightly, his view of her dazed expression beginning to darken.  As the haze drifted over his mind once again, he heard something before his senses failed him…

…It was a voice…her voice…singing a slightly haunting melody…_and she's in key…_

-           -           -           -           -

_Time…time is a unique commodity.  You can have too much or never enough.  It goes by at a snail's pace or in the blink of an eye.  It can pass you by or pull you in…it all depends on your mind.  But when you spend your time wrapped and bleeding, lying on a couch in a rusted fishing ship that's floating through space on a course to God knows where…time just sits there and laughs at you…but in my case, I can laugh back at it._

_When you go up against your ex-best friend, get sliced open, and see your deceased love sitting next to you…you kinda get this feeling that this is it, the last hurrah, my Alamo.  But when you come to with your bandaged ass lying on a dilapidated yellow sofa and enter into a staring contest with a ceiling fan…you realize that your dramatic death scene was wasted and you really pissed time off._

_I can see it, sitting next to me…off to my left…you may think I'm insane but it doesn't really matter…I can see Death.  Amazingly enough, it isn't Faye.  But the truth is, I can see my own death…it just waits for me, waits for the right moment to tap my shoulder and take me out…may not be today, may not be tomorrow…but it will come.  _

_People think I can do what I do because I'm some bad ass, because I had a rough childhood and I don't know any better.  Because I ended up in the Red Dragons and I was good at what I did…people think that that's the reason why I do this.  It isn't that…it isn't because it's fun.   It isn't because of 'the thrill of the chase,' that's utter bullshit.  Sure, flying my Swordfish at a couple hundred miles an hour and dodging bullets, missiles, ships and buildings is entertaining, and it sure as hell ain't boring, but it isn't why I do it. _

_I do what I do because of Death._

_I do what I do because I see Death everyday…it might not be mine, but it's a constant reminder.  What's the point of going through life if you see what's going to pull you out of it everyday? When you see a pale shadow moving along with you every where…you kinda lose a reason to do something with your life._

_Then I met Julia…and she gave me a reason…and you all know where that ended.  Call it fate, call it destiny, call it whatever the hell you want, but this whole damn Romeo and Juliet bit sucks.  Sure all the great love stories end in tragedy…and I was pretty damn sure that mine wasn't gonna be all hunky dory…but the hope was there.  Well, it sure isn't anymore.  The hope is gone…along with my enemy, my nemesis, my Moriarty, if you will.  All that there is left is Death.  Death and Time, my eternal companions._

_Death with that stupid smirk and Time with a pissed off glare…and all I wanted to do was go out with a fucking bang…_

~**Three Weeks Later**~

_Focus…water flows…no resistance…_his right hand shot outward, his hand left open, palm exposed, and it slammed into the nose of the man before him.  His head snapped backward, a loud crunch resounded throughout the room as his nose shattered.  Without so much as a second thought, Spike spun to his right, bringing his leg out and fully extended it just before it made contact.  Just as his leg made contact, a wave of pain shot through his abdomen.  Dropping his foot back to the ground, he stumbled slightly to try and regain his balance.  His left arm reached out and grabbed a hold of a bulkhead as he waited for the pain to subside.  His enemy faded from view and he was once again standing in the rec room on the Bebop.

"You know that if you push it too far you'll end up on the couch again," Jet remarked from his perch at the doorway.

"If I don't push it, I'll never get off the couch," Spike muttered, pushing himself away the wall, his arm still holding his stomach.  In a slow and painful motion, he straightened his back; his breath coming in ragged gasps as he did so.  With his back still to Jet, he winced slightly once he was upright.  Forcing his impassive façade to return, he slowly turned to see Jet standing in the doorway…_with that damn apron…_ "Got any food?"

"Do you think I like the way I look in this thing?' Jet asked sarcastically.

"Ahh…come on, I think you look cute…you know like-"

"Yeah, I know, 'like a little Susie Homemaker'," Jet replied with a pretty good imitation of Spike's voice.

The two stood in silence for a few moments, each locking their gaze on the other.  They didn't have a clue as to what the other was thinking, but it didn't matter.  To Jet, it was slipping back into a mold…something that existed before the Spike's suicide-like run into the Red Dragon headquarters.  To Spike, it was more of the same…it was his life, what he thought was a dream, but he found it to actually be reality.  For that moment, things were the same as they were before…but of course, things like that don't last.

"I don't trust him," Spike said rapidly, breaking the silence.  Jet knew immediately whom he was speaking of.

"Faye does…and he did save your ass," Jet answered, although probably not as forcefully as he should have.

"I just don't like it…something doesn't feel right about him.  She told me what he did…but it doesn't make any sense," Spike turned his head slightly, his eyes turning towards the windows.  "He was trained to think that way…he's ex something, Army, BSSI, ISSP, he's something.  Normal people don't have the foresight to have that extensive a back-up plan…and if they did, they don't have the know how to do it."  Jet remained silent for a few moments, while his partner reached down to a nearby chair and grabbed a cigarette and his lighter.  Lighting up, Spike turned his gaze from the window and back to his friend, "You ever hear of a guy named James Simmons?"

Jet's eyes turned to Spike; a confused look had covered the man's gaze.  "Did you say James Simmons?"

"Yeah."

"He was the first ISSP Director, he was killed in a shuttle accident over fifty years ago," Jet's voice wavered slightly, unsure of exactly where Spike was going with this line of questioning.

"A shuttle accident?" Spike asked, clarifying.

"Yeah…Spike, what the hell is going on?"

"It wasn't an accident."


	13. Unseen Truth

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Unseen Truth**~

Footsteps resounded through the hallway as Spike made his way towards the yellow sofa.  Dropping onto the couch, Spike deviated from his standard procedure and instead of converting the dilapidated sofa into a bed, he grabbed the screen that sat atop the table and began typing rapidly into the keyboard.  Images and text flashed across the screen as he hurriedly entered the commands, his eyes scanning each display and dismissing it almost as quickly as it appeared.

Jet stumbled through the hallway, a confused look on his face.  Turning to see Spike staring at the screen he became even more perplexed.  "Spike, what the hell is going on?"

"You said he was killed in a shuttle accident, right?"

"Yeah, so what's your point?"

"Was it before the Gate accident?"

"Uhh…yeah, it happened before the Gate accident," Jet answered slowly, his mind still trying to comprehend what Spike was getting at.

"Listen…'Three days ago, a disastrous accident occurred onboard a prototype shuttle as it was exiting the atmosphere.  The shuttle, which was en route to the recently completed gate now orbiting the Earth, was carrying James Simmons and many of his supporters'," Spike broke off for a moment while his eyes scanned the rest of the article, " 'Simmons, the creator and head of the newly founded Inter Solar System Police force was midway through his push to end Syndicate influence within areas of politics and police.  He was on his way to commemorate the completion of the Phase Gate and was believed to unveil his plan to remove the influence of the Syndicates during his speech.  As of this time, there is no evidence leading towards foul play."

"So…you're saying that this wasn't an accident…that fifty years ago, the first director of the ISSP was assassinated?" Jet voice displayed his thoughts of incredulity.  "Now what, pray tell, led you to that conclusion?"

"Because it's true."

Both men turned to the new voice.  Standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest and a small grin across his face was Seraph.  Jet eyes betrayed his confusion as to the meaning of the statement, but Spike's eyes fastened themselves on the man across the room.

"How do you know that?" Spike answered.  Even though he believed the statement to be true, his tone betrayed his unease with the newcomer.

"Secure files," he answered nonchalantly, as if dismissing the harsh words directed towards him.

"And what files might these be?  Why don't you enlighten us commoners…and while you're at it, how did you get access?"  Spike rose from his seat, his tone becoming harsher as the seconds passed by.  His distrust growing with the man who was somehow connected to his past.

"They were ISSP files.  I had access," Seraph's eyes turned from the previously disenchanted gaze into a battle-hardened stare, "because I'm ex-ISSP."

"You're telling me that the ISSP has proof that their first Director was assassinated and they didn't do anything about it?  Who the hell do you think you're talking to?  I wasn't born yesterday!" Spike tone was betraying his impatience with the other man.

"I know who you are Spike Spiegel and I know whom you've worked for and what you were.  Everyone's known of L'Étranger," Spike's brow cringed at the term.  "That's what they called you, wasn't it, when you worked for the Red Dragons."

"L'Étranger," Jet said softly, his gaze turning towards Spike, "You were L'Étranger?"

"How do you know that?" Spike's right hand slowly tightened into a fist, his jaw set tight…_I left that name years ago…why won't it leave me?_

"There isn't a person in the ISSP that _hasn't _heard of that name, but I do know that no one outside of the Red Dragon Syndicate has seen the face of L'Étranger and lived," Seraph answered casually, moving toward the yellow chair across from Spike and taking a seat.

"So how do you know I'm him?"

"First, you're reaction.  Second, I've been freelance for a while, and you tend to dig up all kinds of information in that business.  Lastly," Seraph leaned forward, resting his chin on his thumbs, his hands obscuring his mouth, "because there are powers involved that you would not believe."

"What are you talking about?" Spike asked, the edge in his voice receding into curiosity.

"What if I told you that the Syndicates don't exist?"

"I'd say you're dumber than you look," Spike answered, but his ever-growing curiosity was taking hold.

"The Syndicates do exist, on some level, but not to the extent that you believe.  The hierarchy extends beyond the Van, the Capos, and whatever they call themselves.  There's only one Syndicate…and it's run by twelve men, one for each group."

"Twelve men?  One for each group?  But there's only seven Syndicates," Jet's silence was broken as he finally spoke.

"Correct.  The seven from the Syndicates, one from the head of the Martian government, one from the BSSI, one from the Venusian government, one from the ISSP, and the last is the head of group…the head of The Brotherhood," Seraph's voice was even, his eyes centered intently on the man across from him.  

Spike slowly fell back on to the sofa, his mind rapidly trying to comprehend the massive amount of information he was just given.  "You're telling me that all the Syndicates, the BSSI, the ISSP, the leaders of the two most populated planets in the system, and this…Brotherhood dude, are all in cahoots?  What the hell is 'The Brotherhood' anyway?"

"The Brotherhood of Twelve," Jet muttered softly, Spike's head snapped towards him.  "There's an ISSP file a mile long on these guys but we've never actually been able to prove that they exist."

"That's because they run the ISSP, they control everything from politics to government agencies…even the Syndicates."

"You know, just a thought," Spike decided to cut in, his skepticism returning slightly, "but if this is all classified, why the hell are you telling us?"

"You killed the leader of the Red Dragon Syndicate...you're in deep shit."

"Vicious killed them first."

"Maybe so, but that was a coup.  The difference is that even though Vicious was at odds with the Van, he was still in the organization and that organization would have continued.  You-" Seraph jabbed his finger towards Spike to accentuate the point, "-are a rogue.  You are outside the organization and you _aren't _taking over.  When the King gets killed, it's usually because of some sort of vendetta but the person with the vendetta usually wants to take over…you messed up the system.  And these people _like_ their system."

"Doesn't the fact that you helped me out put you in the crosshairs too?" Spike shot back, his wit returning as well.

"I don't exist, remember?"

-           -           -           -           -

_Bars…plural…more than one…that seems to sum it up.  Booze, cigarettes, and…and…pretzels, yeah…pretzels, can't forget about those…they make the world turn.  Getting drunk is never really the plan…it's just always something that happens.  I mean, the bottle's there, staring ya down…and you can't let it go to waste so you drink it.  Then before you know it, you're curled up inside the bottle, all your problems waiting for you outside…but right now, they don't matter.  _

_Why don't they matter you ask?  Because you're plastered beyond belief, that's why.  But for those few hours when you know you've got your three best friends: alcohol, tobacco, and your firearm…when you've got a cigarette, your guns loaded and so are you…life is grand._

_But after those few hours of blissful ignorance…God…the next day is a bitch.  You realize you're outta smokes, you can't remember what happened and you have a half-empty clip…and you realize you had a good night.  'Cause for those few hours, your problems didn't matter…they were outside the bottle.  Away from you._

_But nobody looks beyond the immediacy of the solution.  We're all lazy and spoiled for crap sakes…we want everything now, overnight, and in a pill.  We don't want to work for anything, but we still want all the benefits.  So you never realize that by getting in the bottle and leaving your problems outside…we're just trapping ourselves in a false reality and false sense of security.  Our problems are still there…they're just kinda bendy and hazy right now…but they're still there, waiting for us…waiting for the false security of the bottle to shatter and to assault us when we're nursing a hangover…_

_Well…screw them…I need another drink…_

-           -           -           -           -

…Her finger tapped the bar lightly, a barely audible sound coming from the meeting of flesh and wood, but the bartender noticed despite the nearly inaudible sound.  Come to think of it, the entire bar noticed the solitary woman slouched at the bar, but they all could tell not to try anything.  They could tell this purple-haired female was one person you don't bother, even if she wasn't drowning her sorrows in the strongest stuff she could afford.  

But despite the fact that the woman was drowning her sorrows in stuff that was meant to degrease engines, and the fact that not a single patron of the watering hole had the guts to make a move, the newcomer standing at the door decided to try his luck.  The fact that he had green hair didn't really elevate his chances however.

"You do realize that you're risking severe liver damage by inhaling that crap."

The woman slammed the glass onto the bar, a hairline crack running up the side as it made contact.  "You know what…Spike?" Faye snapped in a slightly slurred sentence, "I don't give a shit.  The faster my…what'd ya call it?"

"Your liver."

"Yeah, my liver…the faster my liver goes kaput, the faster I'm outta this hellhole called life," with that, she spun back towards the bar to refill her glass.  Spike stood silently next to her, whether it was out of respect of what she just said or mere amusement, no one will ever know…but what happened next surprised the voyeuristic group of patrons that had become enraptured in the new events.

"Care if I sit?"

"Nope…go ahead."  Sliding into the seat, Spike glanced over towards the half empty bottle, then grimaced slightly.  "What's the matter?  Not to your taste?"

"Umm…yup, I never like paint thinner," and in one smooth motion, he reached out grabbed the bottle by the neck, placing it out of arms reach of the distraught female.

"Hey, I was drinking that!"

"Not anymore," with that he jumped to his feet.  "Hey!  Anyone wanna bottle of gasoline!  Guaranteed to knock you out or your money back!"

"How much?" someone in the back yelled.

"Free!" Still gripping the bottle by the neck, Spike threw the bottle towards the other man, who obviously had already had too much to drink.  The bottle hit the man in the chest with enough force to knock the breath from him.  The man doubled over, turning his face upward to glare at the man who attacked him…then he realized the blue suited, green haired man was charging straight at him.  Before the man could move, the sole of shoe implanted itself in the man's forehead sending him careening the opposite direction and directly into a table.  

The patrons whose table had been knocked over slowly came to their feet, their eyes displaying a hazy rage that comes from too much alcohol, then that alcohol being splashed across the room.

Spike, in the meantime, had backed over to the bar were Faye was sitting with an amused grin on his face.  "Drunks are so cute…wouldn't ya say?"

"You're an idiot," Faye muttered rising to her feet.

"Naw…I'm just eccentric.  Care to dance?" he asked, gesturing towards the four large men stepping towards the two bounty hunters.

"Why I'd love too."


	14. Rage and Chance

~**Fallen Seraphim~**

**~Rage and Chance~**

Silence had enveloped the duo, along with everything else within earshot.  The two bounty hunters wandered throughout the desolate, moonlit streets of Aruba city.  Despite the rather large scene the two had created, they both managed to make a hasty and most important, unnoticed, retreat before the wailing sirens managed to reach the bar.  Even though they managed to make a clean get away, it seemed that Faye decided that she would blame Spike for the entire incident, the way she ended up with a beer stain on her sweater, how she managed to break a nail, how she got a black eye, and how…

"…Women are gentle creatures!  We aren't supposed to be in bar brawls!  You aren't even supposed to _hit_ a woman!  Didn't those idiots have any idea of common decency?"

Did I say silent?  I'm meant it seemed like silence had enveloped the entire city because _you couldn't hear a goddamn thing other than that noisy woman!_  "I had a feeling that as soon as you decked a few of them, they kinda started to regard you as less of a woman and more of a threat."

Faye's head snapped towards him, her eyes becoming small slits.  "Less of a woman?  _Less?_  Are you saying I'm losing my sex appeal?"

_I don't need this…_"All I'm saying is…yes, you're losing your sex appeal."  _I feel better now._

"Listen here Spike Spiegel!  I was the best looking person _in _that bar and I don't need to hear anything from you about how I look!  If I _needed_ fashion advice, I wouldn't ask it from you!  Look at the green mop you call hair!  If I looked like you I wouldn't even set foot outside!"

"Really now, it's a little hypocritical to be saying stuff like that when…"  Unfortunately, Spike would never finish that phrase; it was a pretty good one though.

"Spike Spiegel?" a deep voice called.

Without even looking, and probably without thinking, Spike instinctively answered with the phrase that fits every occasion, "Piss off pal, I don't care."  Then it dawned on him…_he called me by name.  Not good…_Spike's left arm shot out, his hand hitting Faye's body and pushing as hard as it could.  The movement sent Faye tumbling backwards in the opposite direction of Spike who also went to the ground, but by choice.  

The sound of a gunshot rang out though the empty streets…_great, just what I need…_Spike's hand flew into his coat and reappeared a second later with his gun in hand and aimed at the man in the street, now holding a smoking gun.  _Head shot?  Too chancy…center mass…_and as if training kicked in, Spike's finger pulled the trigger three times, each bullet screaming from the tip of the gun and towards the target.  The first hit just above the sternum, the other two hitting the chest.  The impact sent the man flying off his feet and slamming into the ground.  

Spike let out a small grin, and if given the time would have kicked himself for the sentiment.  But time was something he didn't have much of as he jumped to his feet and made a mad dash towards an alleyway, bullets filling his wake.  Diving into the alley, he skidded to a stop and rolled behind a dumpster, the sounds of bullets impacting the metal dumpster making him wish he had stayed in bed this morning.  _Bad move Spike, you just put yourself in an easily attackable position with one exit._  Spike's eyes darted around the small alley with a small hope of finding an escape route, but the alley ended a few yards from his current position.  _Fire escape…I'll be a sitting duck going up it…but…_a quick survey of his surrounding confirmed that there were no other options…_next stop, heaven or hell._

Deciding to take his chances, Spike bolted from his hiding place and sprinted for the highly hoped for haven.  A few feet from the hanging ladder, he jumped, his hands grabbing hold of the bottom rung.  A surge of adrenaline shot through his body and he pulled himself upwards using mere upper body strength.  Bullets impacted the walls and metal around him, yet miraculously, none of them managed to hit him.  Quickly reaching the top, he jumped over the small ledge surrounding the roof and dropped to the floor…then he realized he wasn't alone

Looking up, he saw one of the gun-totting thugs standing no more than a foot away.  Their eyes met and the thug began to bring his gun up.  Moving instinctively, Spike swept his leg out in a long arc, colliding with the thug's leg and sending him down on his back.  Grabbing his pistol, Spike jammed the barrel underneath the man's chin.

"You gonna be a good boy?"

"Bite me, assho-" Spike pulled the trigger, his gun recoiled and sent the pea-sized brain that had been formulating a sentence across the roof.  _What the hell is going on?  Who are these guys…_Spike's mind was reeling, then it snapped into place…_the Brotherhood.  _

The sharp _twang!_ of a ricochet jolted Spike back to reality and he glanced down at the body before him…_huh, Car-15, that'll work…_and without a second thought, Spike holstered his pistol and grabbed the assault rifle.  Moving to the edge of the roof in a crouched shuffle, Spike leaned up against the small wall surrounding the roof.  The sounds of gunshots and the chaos surrounding it filled the night air…but the mood suddenly changed.

"Goddamn it! Mother-" the phrase wasn't finished, but Spike knew where it was going and who it came from.  Faye Valentine. The woman who never shut up, but if she did, something serious was about to go down.  Peeking over the edge of the building, he could see a half-circle of men carrying assault rifles approaching a single crouched figure searching for a spare magazine.  _Shit…she doesn't give up, she runs outta ammo._  

Glancing around roof, he looked for something he could use as a distraction, when he saw the body.  Scurrying over to the body, he searched the lifeless corpse for anything that could create a distraction…and he found what he was looking for.  A mischievous grin spread across his face when he saw the flash-bang hanging on the man's vest.  Grabbing the body, he pulled it towards the edge of the roof and removed the vest.  Grabbing two of the flash-bangs off the vest, Spike pulled the pins on both grenades but continued to hold the handles.  With a quick glance downward to see one man moving closer to the crouched figure, Spike shoved the body over the edge of the three-story building.  Releasing the handles, he dropped both grenades a split second after the corpse and ducked back behind the edge.

He heard a sickening thud as the body slammed into the ground and a few stifled gasps followed by the explosions.  The two flash-bangs did exactly what they said they would, make an extremely bright flash and an extremely loud bang designed to fry the senses of anyone dumb enough to look at them.  _Thankfully, they were._  Spike jumped from his crouch and brought the stock to his shoulder, his left hand steadied his aim and his right pulled the trigger…

_…Now I've seen a few blood baths in my life, I never particularly cared for them but they came with the job.  Not every bounty decides to go in easy.  Not every creditor takes no for an answer.  But somehow, despite my "choice" in lifestyle, I never had to kill anyone.  I sure as hell shot people, but I'm not the grunt.  I'm the sex appeal.  Spike was the muscle, and he was flexing it right now._

_Spike seemed to have a penchant for violence.  I kinda doubt that he enjoys it, he usually ended up with too many holes, but I'm not completely sure he doesn't like it.  When you're in a shoot-out with some one, you see what they are really made of.  Either they can't take the trauma of even being involved or they managed to save both your asses and come out victorious.  Spike is the personification of column B.  The man is friggin' McGuyver!  He could take out twenty guys with a bullet, a Zippo, and a cigarette.  Granted he'd take the more difficult route of taking out the guys with one bullet and saving the cig to light up afterward, but it's results we're looking for._

_But this was different somehow…Spike's previous fights with anybody seemed to contain nothing more than amusement.  That stupid smirk always gave it away.  That grin was plastered on his face while he kicked the crap outta anything that strayed into his path.  That was the Spike I knew…the Spike I knew before he fought Vicious._

_When Spike fought Vicious, it was as if a rage broke loose from within, a hidden demon cast deep within the shadows of his mind, and he fought in a way nearly unrecognizable to me.  Sure he still had the flair, the flowing and fluid motions, but you could see within the graceful movements that there was something underneath waiting to break free.  It seems like the demon is still there._

_Like I said before, blood baths are not uncommon in my chosen profession, but those caused by Spike always held something deeper.  As the flash-bangs detonated and the shooting started and the bodies started falling, you just knew something was wrong.  Standing atop the building holding an assault rifle was the unmistakable silhouette of Spike holding an assault rifle.  His torso jerked backward as each bullet fired, the recoil jamming the stock into his shoulder, yet his face appeared detached from entire event.  Almost as though the sounds from below weren't reaching him.  Almost as though the death and destruction below didn't matter._

_Almost as though it wasn't Spike._

_And to be honest, it scared me…_

…Silence fell over the streets once more, the noise of bullets, casings, bolts, and the screams of men echoed into oblivion.  Spike's hands remained wrapped around the gun, his grip refusing to let go.  He knew everyone on the ground was either dead or dying, but he never gave them that second chance to get even…he'd seen it happen before.  People he knew in the Syndicate, shot in the back by a man lying in a pool of his own blood.  That's why he stood there, his sights still set on the bodies lying in the street.  He knew the authorities would hear about this, they always did.  But by the time they got out of their doughnut shops and got their lazy asses to the crime scene, both he and Faye would be long gone.

Faye…I seem to get into more trouble with that woman around than any other time in my life…she's like a magnet for this kinda stu-__

_Bang!_

_The assault rifle recoiled and the movement from below stopped.  The guy who was reaching for…something just ended up being a corpse.  _You don't take chances in this kind of work…you rely on luck and you just end up dead.The far off wail of sirens floated across the still night air…the same air that reeked of gunpowder and blood._   I'm a walking chance…the Brotherhood is looking for me; these guys are proof…if you rely on chance…everyone gets dead…time to move._


	15. Adieu

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Adieu**~

The Bebop, being a converted fishing ship, wasn't really designed all that well for anything else…but it didn't have to be.  The only real way in or out was through the hanger, out onto the deck and over the side.  You could probably make another exit if need be, but that wouldn't leave it space-worthy.  Then again, with the way the ship was treated, it was amazing it still is space-worthy.

The hanger door slammed shut following the two bickering bounty hunters, Faye currently yelling at Spike for leaving her to fend for herself in the street while he made a break for the fire-escape.  Spike, meanwhile, ignored every word coming out of her mouth as he sauntered through the hallway still carrying the assault rifle and the vest.  He figured he should clean it, but first he wanted to find out what he got and to do that he needed a place to take a load off.  

Making a sharp right, he made his way into the rec room and grabbed a seat on the couch, making sure to cover enough of the couch to keep Faye from sitting next to him.  Picking up the gun, Spike pointed the barrel at the ceiling and pulled down the bolt; the remaining cartridge was ejected from the barrel and he removed the clip.  Placing the unloaded gun on the table, he reached for the vest when he realized that Faye had suddenly stopped talking.

He cast a glance at her; she was still standing at the side of the couch.  "Faye, don't worry about earlier-"

"Don't tell me not to worry!" she snapped, her eyes rising to meet his.  "Don't tell me that 'Everything's okay' and 'You don't have to worry about it'.  Don't give me that shit Spike!  You and I both know exactly what happened…I wasn't prepared and that almost caused a bad situation to end up being a worse one!  Don't tell me that 'Shit happens' and there's nothing you can do about it.  I almost got both of us killed and you had to save the day so don't give me it!"

"Well, if you don't like the idea of me saving your ass over and over again, I guess I'll just leave you to a large group of men to do what they want with you."  Spike's smirk vanished as soon as he finished the sentence.  _You're not helping the situation dumb ass…_ "Faye, listen to me, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once.  We; you, me, and Jet, are a team.  It's my job to watch your ass just the same as it's your job to watch mine.  So don't get your panties in a twist the second you can't come out on top.  Shit happens."  _Am I really watching out for their collective butts by doing this?_

"Spike, I…" her voice faltered, betraying her unease with Spike's non-argumentative statement…_well, the last half._

"Don't worry about it…I'm sure you'll save my ass someday and we'll be even."  _I sincerely hope not…but shit does happen, especially around here._

Faye remained standing in the doorway, unsure of what to say after Spike's little display of chivalry.  She decided to give up on any type of answer and gave a half-hearted nod in his general direction.  Coming to the conclusion that things were going to get very awkward in a few seconds, she made her way out of the rec room and towards her own; still somewhat dazed by Spike's speech.

Spike's eyes followed her body until she vanished from view, his attention once again returning to the gun in his hands.  _If we're really a team, that means we do what's best for everyone.  The Brotherhood is going to go after me until I'm dead, there isn't really any second place here…I take them down or they take me…the others can't be involved…or else they just become collateral to the Brotherhood._

"Choice," the voice filled the room causing Spike's attention to be pulled away from the gun towards the source; even though he already knew who it was.  "Choices are unique to the human race…every other creatures merely follows instinct, nothing more.  But we decide to do or not do everything that happens during a day."

"Spare me the psycho-babble, you a shrink along with a mercenary?" Spike interrupted, Seraph gave no visible sign of annoyance at the outburst…and to Spike's disapproval, no sign of stopping.

"You can stay on the Bebop and make the ship a sitting target or you can go off on your own and hope the Brotherhood doesn't decide to do away with your shipmates," Seraph's eyes displayed neither happiness nor sadness, pleasure nor pain, just a focus on the moment.  _They say the eyes display your emotions and that they are the windows to your soul…if you show no emotions…does that mean you have no soul?_  Spike's mind took a rapid detour…_who the hell is "they" anyway?_

Spike rose to his feet, his left hand curled around the handle on the assault rifle.  "Well, since you think you know so much about me," Spike began walking towards him, "why don't you tell me what I'm gonna choose then, huh?  Why don't ya, smart guy?"  Spike face was a mere foot away from Seraph.

"I know, because you're predictable," Seraph stated, a smirk forming.

Spike's right fist covered the distance from his side to Seraph's grinning face before the mercenary could even react.  Spike's knuckles slammed into the other man's face and he was sent stumbling backwards, cupping the place he was hit.

"Surprise, how's that for predictable?" Spike said, his trademark grin covering his face.  

Seraph was back on his feet before Spike had a chance to move, his face a few inches from Spike's, a slight gleam of anger shinning in his eyes.  "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat the shit outta you right now."

"'Cause you know I'd win," and without another word, he moved past Seraph and into his room…there wasn't much, but he needed to pack…_Teams look out for each other, that's what I'm doing now…right?_

But Spike didn't know of the conflicting thoughts running through Seraph's mind, for if he did, Spike wouldn't have turned his back on him.  Nor would he have turned his back if he had seen Seraph's hand reach into his jacket and grab a hold of his Beretta.  But he didn't shoot Spike in the back, whether it was out of honor or the mere fact that his employer wanted him alive, he didn't shoot him, and that merely prolonged this questionable truce they had struck.

-           -           -           -           -

She wasn't even sure of exactly what she was doing; yet she was here._  Being grateful isn't exactly my style.  Yet I'm still standing in front of his door debating whether to knock or leave.  Think Faye, this isn't rocket science damnit._  Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand and tapped the door.  __

"Spike, .I…uh, I just wanted to say something, could you open the door?" Her voice didn't even seem audible, almost as if most of her words never escaped her throat._  Maybe he didn't hear me.  _"Spike, look…I just wanted to say this and then I'll leave you alone."  No answer.  __

_I don't believe this.  I'm trying to be nice and that bastard won't even open the door to look at me!  You know what, screw him!_

A low rumble echoed through the ship's hallways…_that sounds like a ship_…the rumble grew louder, reaching it's peak in a roar and then disappeared…_like it was flying away…Spike_.__

She grabbed the door to Spike's room and pulled it open, revealing a barren room.  All his things had been removed, granted there weren't many to begin with, but they were gone.  All that was left was a mattress, but there was something sitting on the mattress.  She took a few steps closer to get a more detailed look at the small object when she realized what it was:_ it's my doll._

_How did he know?  Why did he…_she didn't even remember walking the last few steps, her memory started up again as she knelt before the bed and took the doll into her arms.  As she did so she noticed a small piece of paper lying beneath it.  She picked up the paper and her eyes skimmed through the note.

_FYI_

_I left the other ships working 'cause I know Jet would bitch if I did anything to them.  Just don't follow me.  _

_Spike_

A single tear ran down the side of her face and fell onto the doll's hat.  _It doesn't make any sense…why does he keep leaving me?_


	16. Inevitable

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Inevitable**~

_Where am I going?  Well if that isn't the 100,000 woolong question.  If I knew where I was going I wouldn't be sitting in this cramped hunk-of-junk floating through space.  There's nothing I really have to do other than destroy a multi-planetary conspiracy that is currently trying to destroy my life because I killed my ex-best friend because he killed the love of my life.  And you thought soap operas weren't real._

_Julia…you didn't deserve all of this, I didn't even deserve you…but girls always seemed to have this completely arbitrary way of deciding that you're the right guy for them.  _

_I wish I could see you now…I don't even know where you're at.  I just want to say…well, goodbye at the very least.  But I'm not even sure how to do that!  Why didn't you come with me?  I just wish this all didn't need to happen._

_This is giving me a headache…I need a drink…_

…A neon sign over a pair of wooden doors; it didn't seem like much, but back when the Red Dragon Syndicate's influence extended this far, they used this bar as a hang-out.  It wasn't actually a bar per se, it was a jazz club, pool hall, and bar; everything you need all rolled right into one.  And it was here, in Steamer's, that Spike met Julia.  

Spike was playing pool, using his God-given ability for hitting the ball and making it go in the hole to double his weekly payday when he saw her.  He didn't even see her come in, he just saw her across the table looking the opposite direction.  As if she felt his presence, she turned and glanced over her shoulder, and her eyes caught sight of the then matching brown eyes.  She gave him a smile and he felt daring.  Deciding to take his chances, he offered to buy her a drink.  They had fun, they talked and laughed and then Vicious showed up.

Apparently they were an item and had been for a few months.  The feeling of betrayal came to surface when Spike found that his best friend had had a girl for nearly half a year without telling him.  They're friendship seemed to go down hill from that point on.  It's easy to blame Julia for the deteriorating friendship and it might actually have been true that if she didn't come along Spike would still be in the Red Dragon Syndicate and he and Vicious would still be friends, but it's also human nature to look for someone else to blame.  But to Spike, it didn't even matter then that the friendship was going down hill, all that mattered was Julia…_and this bar was the last place I saw her before I asked her to come with me._

Spike walked into the building and quickly found an empty seat at the bar.  He ordered a drink, Scotch, and after one glass it all started to come back to him…

_The doors swung open, Spike and Julia wandered into Steamer's looking for somewhere they could just find a nice, quiet drink.  He felt her arms wrap around his body and draw him closer.   He felt the contours of her body touch his back and even allowed himself a small smile.  This was it…this was what he wanted.  Not this life of running and gunning, always looking behind your back so you can shoot them before they shoot you.  He wanted to be with her.  To be in love and be with the person he loved._

_They decided to skip the drinks and make there way out into the night.  They spent most of the time whispering between themselves the way lovers do, occasionally breaking into fits of laughter as they walked down the sidewalks enjoying the other's embrace._

_After about an hour of not paying attention to where they were going, they finally came to their senses when it started to rain and as they took note of their surroundings, they realized that they were in a cemetery; the same cemetery I told her later to meet me at on that fateful day…_

Spike snapped back to his senses and realized he was standing in that same cemetery.  Reasoning that he must have walked out of the bar while his mind was focused on the past.  He glanced to his side, hoping out of the slightest possibilities there existed the chance that she might be there.  But she wasn't.  She wasn't standing next to him.  "She" was no longer there.

"I miss you."

-           -           -           -           -

"This is Rooftop 1.1, I have visual confirmation of the package.  Requesting orders.  Over," the radio fell silent for a brief second before the static cleared and a voice returned.

"Rooftop 1.1, this is CentCom [Central Command], hold position until Downtown 1.1 and 1.2 are in position.  Repeat; do not engage until Downtown 1.1 and 1.2 are in position.  Over," the voice squawked over the headset worn by the sniper.  

"I copy CentCom, will await further instructions." 

Being six stories off the ground has its advantages, as far as military strategy goes; he with the higher ground always wins.  But that doesn't always work in a snatch.  John Masters almost felt sorry for the guy with the poofy green hair whose profile was currently filling his telescopic sights.  He had seen the guy's lips move a few moments before and was curious as to why he was talking to himself, but decided to just resign himself to the job at hand.

It was a standard op, one man would approach from the front and ask a harmless question and while the package was distracted, another would rush him from the back.  After subduing the package, they'd move to an extraction point and throw the poor bastard in a van and we'd never see him again.  They never even need a sniper, just in case the guy manages to do something pretty amazing in order to break free from the two guys on the ground…plus the second team waiting in the surrounding areas.

"This is Downtown 1.1 holding in position."

"This is Downtown 1.2 we're ready."

"Acknowledged Downtown 1, Downtown 2, this is CentCom are you in position?"

"Rodger CentCom, Downtown 2 is in position."

"Acknowledged, Rooftop 1.1 is the package still in position?"

"Rodger, the package is stationary."

"Acknowledged Rooftop 1.1.  All teams, this is CentCom; we are green for the snatch.  Repeat, we are green."

Masters watched through his scope as Downtown 1.1 walked by the package, he glanced towards the package and then moved in closer.  Something stupid like: "Do you have a light?" or "Do you have the time?" was probably exchanged.  He watched as the man shook his head no before he was slammed forward and pinned to the concrete by Downtown 1.2.  The poor guy didn't even know what hit him.  Within seconds, they had his hands and feet tied together.  The Downtown 2 team moved in to help get him to the van, but all and all it was by the book.  Masters followed the group carrying the package through his scope as they moved towards the van and watched as they threw him in the back through the open doors.  After the doors were shut and locked, one of the men hit the back doors twice and the van took off down the street.

"This is CentCom, the package has been wrapped, move to extraction.  Repeat, the package has been wrapped, move to extraction."

"I copy CentCom, who's buying the drinks?"

_Poor guy._

-           -           -           -           -

"Don't tell me there's nothing we can do, there's always something we can do!" Faye's voice was on the verge of hysterics.  Ever since she found the note in Spike's room she had been insistent on finding a way to get the impulsive, poofy-haired bounty hunter back on the ship.  It never really made sense to Jet.  But questioning either of them about it took you even further away from the truth; it was easier to just leave them be and let them act like elementary school kids.

"Look, he said don't follow so don't you think it might actually be a good thing to, god forbid, listen to what he said for once?" Jet answered from the chair opposite the couch Faye was stressing out on.

"What if he's in trouble?"

"Then he'll handle it."

"What if the Brotherhood goons show up?"

"Then he'll handle it."

Faye leapt to her feet.  "What the hell is wrong with men?  Is this 'code of honor' bullshit so engrained in your narrow little minds that you can't possibly consider the idea that he _might_ need help?"

"He left for a reason Faye.  Don't you get that?" Jet's eyes followed Faye as she paced back and forth before him.  _The woman just doesn't get it._  "He left because he knows he's a target for the Brotherhood and he didn't want us to get involved.  If you go after him, you'll negate everything he did here."

"But…what if they catch him?" Faye's voice faltered for the first time in the last twenty minutes of cursing Spike's idiocy for running out.

"You don't have to worry about the Brotherhood catching him," Seraph's voice echoed through the room.  Both bounty hunters turned to look at the eavesdropper.

"Why do you say that?" Jet asked tentatively.  He, like Spike, never fully trusted the mercenary.

"Because they already have him."

"No…they can't already have him, he hasn't even been gone for a day," Faye returned to her seat, her eyes betraying her somewhat calm exterior.

"They tracked you down from the bar, what makes you think they wouldn't be able to track a ship?" the harsh reality of Seraph's statement began to fall into place.  Faye shook her head, refusing to accept what he had said or merely following deductive logic.  "Faye, they already have him.  I'm I willing to bet that they have him in their Aruba City building."

Faye's head snapped around, "You know where they have him?"

"Where they might have him, it's a really big 'if'."

"How do we get there?" Faye's logic became rapidly apparent to Jet.

"Now hold on Faye, you can't be thinking what I think you're thinking." _I don't like the way this is going…_

"Why not?  We know where he's at."

"Faye," Seraph began slowly, attempting to explain the entire situation that they were facing.  "You are talking about breaking into a highly secured facility, dealing with the security setup and trained personnel, and breaking out a man who killed one of their most elite officials if he's even there!"

"What would it take?" Faye looked back at her brother, her determination apparent.

"A miracle."

Author's Note:  Guys, I'm sincerely sorry for my delay.  Believe me, if I had figured out what the issue with this chapter was months ago, I would have posted it in seconds.  Once again, I apologize.


	17. Miracles

~**Fallen Seraphim**~

~**Miracles**~

"The building is seven stories tall not counting the floors that extend underground.  The front door is easily entered but once inside you must pass through a security checkpoint that checks ID, retinal, and hand prints; none of which we will have," Seraph paused a second to let the obstacles sink in.  "Once past that point, movement within is relatively unhindered but there are guards patrolling the building at all hours and the shifts overlap by fifteen minutes so there is no down time.  There are also security cameras on every floor, every hallway, every staircase, elevator…you name it, it's monitored."  Seraph took a moment to take in the expressions of the two bounty hunters.  Jet seemed rather distraught while Faye's expression still hadn't changed from sheer determination.  I'd better give them the bad news… "The holding cells are located on the lower floors, the basements.  Now the basements house all the sensitive material: espionage, advanced R&D, et cetera.  That means that the lower levels have an extra measure of security.  

"Now here's the trick.  In order to get into the lower levels, you must be buzzed through by security.  Security is located on the seventh floor.  In order for one of us to get in, another must take and hold the security room until the other can get in position.

"Once you are in the lower levels, the holding cells are on the third floor down.  Now, luckily there is an emergency exit on the lowest floor.  It leads to a parking structure three-hundred yards away from the building and it's where the Brotherhood keeps all their modified vehicles."

"Wait a minute, back it up," Faye broke into Seraph's little monologue.  "First, how exactly do you know all this?   And second, you just spent the last five minutes explaining the air-tight security of this place, how the hell are we going to get in?"

"Well, number one, I know because I've been there as an ISSP agent.  I was privy to some of the dealings the Brotherhood had with the ISSP.  Second, we'll get in through a HAHO."

"You've gotta be shitting me," Jet's mouth fell to the ground. Seraph grinned.

"Hey wait a minute!  What the hell are you two talking about?  What's a hey hey or whatever you guys called it," Faye burst in, annoyed at the sudden use of acronyms that she didn't understand.

"A HAHO is a High Altitude, High Opening," Jet began to explain.  "It's a parachute jump a few miles off the ground and you float in onto your target.  The special forces use 'em."

"A parachute?  You're telling me that we're gonna parachute in?  Won't they see us?" Faye's determination seemed to be slipping.

"Not at night."

"But I've never even parachuted before!"

"You'll be going in tandem with me."

"Uhh…not trying to throw a kink in the works, but I've never done it either and won't it be kinda…uncomfortable for three people at the same time?" Jet seemed extremely apprehensive about the entire plan.

"You're not going," Seraph replied.

"What?"

"The only way we'll even be able to get near the building is if the Bebop is on approach…and I'm pretty confident that this ship can't land itself."

"Well…no, it can't."

"So you'll have to stay on the ship in order to land it.  They monitor all incoming and outgoing ships so it has to be a by the book landing," Seraph gave the two bounty hunters a quick glance before he continued.  "Here's the plan:  the Bebop will head into Aruba City to land.  As the ship is descending, Faye and I will go over the side and parachute in.  Once we land on the roof, we'll make our way into the duct system and move to the security room.  After disabling the guards, I'll hold the room as Faye makes her way down to the basement entrance-"

"Why the hell do I get the risky job?" Faye piped in, voicing her disapproval of her position in the plan.

"Because you don't know how the security system works and I can also give you information from that point about guard positions," Faye didn't seem to thrilled with Seraph's answer but she decided it'd be best to let the man finish.  "As I was saying, I'll ring you in through the door and then you'll make your way down to the holding cells.  Once there, you'll head for the emergency exit.  Any questions?"

Silence filled the room, the steady whirring of the fan above their heads filling the void.  "One last thing, if you hear an alarm, no matter what, abandon the plan and make for an exit.  We're no good to Spike dead or captured."

"How soon?" Faye's voice echoed the sentiments of all there.

"As soon as possible, but there are a few things that we need to obtain first."

-           -           -           -           -

"Alright, you're about to get a crash course in Stealth 101," Seraph gave his sister a slight grin before continuing.  They were in the so-called rec room, Faye retaining her position on the couch and Seraph sitting opposite her.  Gadgets and gizmos of various sorts, however, had covered the table.  Seraph reached into the pile and pulled out a small earpiece, "When you put this on, it's nearly invisible.  There is no metal used within it so metal detectors won't pick it up.  On and off, little green light means on."  He reached back into the pile and pulled out the matching microphone, a small, round disc designed to be pinned to clothing, "You merely put this on your collar, when you apply pressure to the back it turns on and sends a signal.  Once again, no metal."

Pulling out a gun, he handed the weapon to Faye.  She looked closely at the weapon; it looked like any normal weapon except that it was much lighter than any gun that size she had ever used.  "Beretta M9 Special, built specifically for covert operatives.  The silencer is built into the gun to limit noise so it can't be removed.  It's made of advanced synthetic materials so the pistol itself will not set off a metal detector.  The bullets might.  Faye," she turned away from the pistol and back to him, the look in his eyes displaying the seriousness of what he was about to say.  "The pistol is a last resort.  It's silenced, but it leaves a mess, try to find other ways of getting past the guards."  

Faye nodded and Seraph continued to explain the rest of the items on the table…

_…The plan…the plan made sense.  It wasn't overly complicated and it didn't rely entirely on luck.  What I was afraid of however, is that it relied on me…on my skills at getting through the building without tipping anybody off.  I have trouble making it from my room to the kitchen without getting into an argument with a certain poofy-haired bounty hunter.  And then there's all this stealth stuff, I'm not exactly the "subtle" type.   Spike, if we all make it through this, by skill, luck, or the help of some deity (I'm a non-denominational type of gal) who just happens to be watching over our collective butts, then every time you saved my ass in the past has been paid in spades and I've get bragging rights from here till doomsday._

-           -           -           -           -

"We're on approach, we'll be reaching the drop point in forty seconds!" Jet's voice came through loud and clear over the miniscule earpiece.  The deck of the Bebop was surprisingly calm for the speed they were traveling at, nearly the speed of sound and no wind whatsoever.  But then the sky above them didn't seem quite right either, in place of the serene blue skies and lazy wisps of clouds was a black sea filled with small pinpricks of light.  The eerie sea of black instead the calming of blue, it almost seemed odd.  _And it would seem odd, if we were in atmo._  

Faye Valentine merely shook her head, bringing her mind back on the matter at hand.  That matter being the impending penetration of the Bebop through Aruba City's outer atmospheric walls followed by their subsequent jump off the Bebop and into the comforting hands of a large piece of nylon…_which is stronger than the ones I wear…I hope…_

"Ten seconds!" _Ten?  What the hell happened to the other thirty?  Stay calm Faye, this isn't gonna help.  Can't lose your cool now…gotta stay focused…there's nothing to worry about…all we have to do is break into a highly-secured facility operated by a shadow government that kills anyone who gets in their path._

"Five seconds!"  _Wait a minute…we're gonna get in their path!_

"Four!" _That means they'll go after us!_

"Three!"  _We can't do this it…it's is suicide!_

"Two!"  _Crap, crap, crap…_

"One, go!" _Oh shit…_

A flood of air rushed across the ship as the Bebop slipped through the atmospheric walls and into the airspace of Aruba city.  And before she could register a complaint Seraph had stepped forward pulling her off the safety of the deck and into free fall.


	18. Best Laid Plans

**Fallen Seraphim**

**Best Laid Plans**

The definition of a landing is a controlled crash…this was no landing. To be frank, the only reason this didn't count as a catastrophe was the lack of serious injuries, but aside from that, it was a crash.

Faye's head was still buzzing from the impact. Unfortunately during the approach to the seven story building Seraph had spotted a security measure that hadn't been in the briefing. The guard had decided he needed a cigarette so he made his way up to the roof…_even government conspiracies can't break the "No Smoking" laws…_where Seraph noticed the faint flicker of a lighter. Seraph quickly guided the parachute towards the unsuspecting smoker. Faye didn't quite realize what was going on until the last possible second which, of course, is always too late.

Faye's body slammed into the guard, knocking the guard to the floor and sending Faye and Seraph into a rather awkward landing. Faye's feet hit the ground and she rapidly tried to regain her balance, but the added weight of the body behind her sent her stumbling to the ground, taking Seraph with her. The two landed in a pile with the parachute slowly draping over them.

Seraph reacted quickly and reached between he and Faye to release the carabiners that held the two together. Jumping to his feet, he rushed to the guard who was still lying in a heap on the rooftop. Once within a few feet he delivered a swift kick to the guard's stomach, the man instinctively curled inwards but made no other movements.

Looking back towards the parachute, he saw a flash of light as Faye jabbed a commando knife through the canvas and sliced her way out. She made it to her feet and glared towards Seraph.

"You said there was no one on the roof," she whispered harshly.

"Plans change," he answered. "Grab the chute and get to the vent."

Faye grabbed the black fabric and crammed it back into the pack. _I hope this is the only part of the plan that needs altering._ She threw the pack over her shoulder and turned back to Seraph and watched as he pried the metal grate off the air vent, leaving a gaping hole large enough for a person, with no light whatsoever. Seraph climbed into the abyss and disappeared, as if he'd been consumed by it. Faye climbed into the ventilation shaft and pulled the grate back up to cover the only way out.

- - - - -

The flickering glow of television screens filled the security room, the multi-colored images casting a dismal amount of light throughout the room. Each screen displaying a different sterilized hallway or antiseptic stairway. Random screens display guards walking through the hallway after endless hallway. The two guards residing in the room wearily watched the countless monitors. Neither noticed the pair of eyes from the ventilation shaft to their rear.

Seraph glanced towards Faye, trying to get her attention while the darkness hindered any chance of success that he might have had. When she finally noticed, he reached down to his holster and withdrew his Beretta; Faye nodded in acknowledgement, and followed his example. Seraph grabbed the grate, drew a deep breath, and pushed…

…The grate gave way and through some stroke of luck or divine intervention, made no sound. He pulled the grate into the ventilation shaft and laid it silently on the darkened metal. Seraph lowered himself through the opening and landed on his feet with a soft thud; neither guard noticed. He brought the silenced pistol up and aimed at the back of the nearest guard's head.

He crossed the room, covering the distance between himself and the guard without a sound. His arm wrapped around the guard's neck, pulling him from the chair, a surprised gasp coming from the captive guard. The other guard turned to look, his gaze meeting the business end of a silenced pistol.

"I could have killed both of you already, don't make me do it now," Seraph's voice remained emotionless, completely focused on the moment at hand. "Faye, we haven't got all night." Faye pulled herself through the vent and aimed her pistol, a little less sure, but just as lethal. "Tie 'em up."

Faye grabbed a roll of duct tape from the bag and set to work removing the ability to move, speak, or anything other than sit there and look terrified from both the guards. After Faye had moved on to the second, Seraph crouched before the first guard and placed the barrel of his pistol on the side of his head.

"All right, down to business. Access codes for the basement," Seraph pushed the gun into the side of the man's head.

"If you kill me, you won't find out," the guard stammered, trying to sound as defiant as possible but merely sounding like a kid caught in the act awaiting punishment.

"I don't have to kill you. Faye, tape!" She finished wrapping the other guard and tossed the roll to Seraph. He tore off a piece and slapped it over the guard's mouth. "You don't seem to understand, don't they teach you how to withstand torture?" The guard's eyes widened with fear and shook his head. "Huh…they didn't? Pity." Seraph pressed the barrel of the gun into the man's crotch. "Have any kids?" The man became frantic, trying to get away from the psycho with the gun. "Oh, so now you want to talk?" The guard quickly nodded. "You realize what's going to happen if you make a noise?" The guard nodded again. "Good," Seraph ripped the tape off the man's mouth. "What's the code?"

"27882."

"Good job," Seraph slapped the tape back over his mouth. He looked back towards Faye, now wearing a white lab coat with the name "Watson" over the left breast. "You almost look respectable." She threw him an annoyed look, more along the lines of 'I have a gun and will use it.' Seraph ignored the glare, "You'd better get going, we don't have a lot of time."

Faye merely nodded and headed for the door. She paused as the door opened, almost as if her mind decided it wasn't too sure about the outlook of this plan. Without anymore thought, she walked through the door, the metal slab sealing behind her. The room fell silent save for the heavily breathing of the two guards…_That's going to be annoying…_

Two successive muffled shots and one guard fell silent. The other's eyes shone with fear as he watched his comrade slump into his chair, two bullet holes in his fore head. The imposing figure dressed in black crossed the room with his hand still gripping the black pistol. The lack of light was reflected in his eyes; there was no color…just black….the absence of all…

And that black void was staring directly at the remaining guard.

Two muffled shots followed and the absence filled the room.

- - - - -

Sterile, endless hallways at every turn. The echoing sound of footsteps accompanied the dreary silence that filled the hallways. Cameras, guards, and emptiness surround Faye Valentine. Numbered doors passed by on both sides, nameless, spotless, their contents unknown.

_You ever get the feeling that something is just? That feeling that just crawls up your back and kind of settles on the back of your neck. Having a feeling that something is going to happen and not knowing just makes this entire job worse. No matter how you dice it, I just keep getting the wrong hand._

- - - - -

Without the bickering of two particular bounty hunters, the entire shipjust felt dead. Even through Jet never seemed too thrilled to have the two on board, it had become …normal to have them around. To hear constant arguing, the slamming of doors, and the throwing of random objects (including, more often than not, couch cushions) just seemed normal despite the fact that the behavior itself is not.

Now the silence of the ship created a thickening presence around the ex-cop.

The Bebop itself rested on the rolling water of Aruba City's' large, man-made lake. The ship sat silent, the engine shut down to conserve fuel, most of the electronics off to keep the batteries as charged as possible just in case something goes wrong…_which it always seems to._

The night sky, billions of pin points of light shinning down, meeting the countless lit windows filling the darkened cityscape. The lights cast an eerie glow through the windows of the ships bridge. The rolling waves rocked the ship side to side, it's lone passenger moving gently with it. His eyes staring out across the starlit bay. The darkened sea stretching out before him.

Faye and Seraph had jumped an hour earlier. Jet didn't even know if they were alive, died, captured, or any of a hundred more possibilities that seemed too gruesome to consider.

But sometimes all you really have are possibilities and that isn't much to go on.

- - - - -

"Now you make a left, head down the hallway and there will be a stair way on your right. Down the stairs and make another right," Seraph finished the last sentence and released the small microphone. He heard an acknowledgement from Faye but merely ignored it. Reaching over to the console, he pressed a series of buttons. The screen before him flickered, but remained covered in static.

"Yes?" a voice flowed through the speakers, the audio perfectly clear in contrast to the static filled screen.

"The girl is in the building. She's headed for the basement," Seraph responded.

"Good, make sure she doesn't get passed the security doors."

"Understood, I'll trip the alarm once she reaches the elevator."

"Don't fail, you've done well up to this point; don't let your relationship with her get in the way."

"Relations don't matter, this is business." A soft click and the static filled images faded to black.

- - - - -

"You, stop!" Faye froze at the sound of a voice behind her. Her hands fell to her sides, her left brushing against the grip of the silenced Beretta. "Turn around!" She turned, her gaze coming to rest on the uniformed figure of a Brotherhood security guard. "Let me see your I.D."

Faye felt her pulse stop; the I.D. was a forgery, a pretty good one, but she had no idea if it would hold up against a close examination. She reached into her breast pocket and withdrew the card. She moved to hand it to the guard but "accidentally" dropped it. The guard rolled his eyes and motioned for her to pick it up. She bent over, her right hand sliding into the lab coat to grab the gun as the left went for the I.D. Pulling the gun from its holster and rising at the same time, the tip of the silencer came to rest mere inches from the guard's forehead before he realized what was happening.

"Now you turn around," the guard's shock melted away as he came to terms with the new situation. Grudgingly, he followed her order and turned his back on his captor. "Pull you gun out and hand it to me, handle first." Faye's eyes focused on the guard's movements. He pulled the gun from its holster, flipped it, and gave the pistol, handle first, to Faye. "Thank you," she said half-heartedly, then slammed the base of the guard's own pistol into the back of his head. The guard's body slumped to the ground in an unconscious hump.

Faye took a cursory glance at her surroundings to make sure no one had seen her. Seeing nobody, she reached down and grabbed the guard by the legs and dragged the guard towards the nearest janitorial closet…_now if I only knew where that was…_

- - - - -

_Concrete…reinforced concrete and steel bars. Simple yet effective…and boring as hell. You can only stare at a blank wall for so long until your brain starts trying to make images out of the shadows…so far, it's been three rabbits, four ducks, and the biggest pack of cigarettes I've seen in my life._

_When you stare at the same walls for four days straight, you seem to reach a point where your brain just kinda endlessly contemplates the meaning of…well, being here. Getting grabbed like that was so friggin' obvious, but I still fell for it. Well, now I'm here…and I can't do a thing about it._

_I just hope they don't do anything about it._

- - - - -

"Now make a left and the door is just ahead," the comm shut off and Seraph's eyes followed Faye from security monitor to security monitor as she walked through the empty hallways. As she stepped towards the door, Seraph reached across the console to the alarm. He hesitated slightly, almost contemplating whether he should do it or not, but pushed those thoughts aside and pressed the button anyway.

Nothing.

H pressed it again.

Still nothing.

A yellow, slightly deformed smiley face popped onto the screen before him, then spread to the rest.

"What the hell?"

"Seraph don't mess with Faye-Faye," a disembodied voice echoed through the room.

"Who the hell are you? How do you know my name?"

"Edward Wong Hau Pepilou Tivurusky IV."

"What?"

"Edward is Ed, and Ed won't let Seraph hurt Faye-Faye."

"I don't want to hurt Faye, I'm gonna…help her."

"Seraph bad liar, need lessons."

"How do you know who I am?"

"Edward sees all and knows all…swooky."

"What the hell are you talking about?

"Seraph needs to shut up, Edward is in charge. Icon, icon, pretty little icon. Icon go click!"

One of the screens changed to an image of Faye staring into the camera, obviously becoming very agitated. Seraph's eyes snapped to the screen just in time to see the two doors slide open. She glanced back towards the camera, gave it an odd look before moving through the doors.

"Why are you doing this?" Seraph demanded.

Silence.

"Why the fuck are you doing this?" Seraph slammed his fist into the monitor, shattering the screen. He ignored the shards of glass sticking out of his hand as he headed for the door. Things weren't going to plan and there was going to be hell to pay.

- - - - -

Faye Valentine leaned against the metal walls of the elevator. The double doors from the first floor lead her to this steel box and a sense of claustrophobia was beginning to set in. _What am I doing? Why the hell am I here? All of this to save that lunkhead? I must be out of my friggin' mind! That moron goes off and gets himself caught by this shadow government and I come here to bail his sorry ass out? When has he ever bailed me out?_

Images of Spike standing atop a building with an assault rifle flooded her mind. Images of Spike striding confidently into a dilapidated church clothed in a trenchcoat. Another of him drawing a gun at the end of a bar and firing at the man holding her captive.

_So maybe Spike actually has come to my rescue. Maybe that poofy-haired bounty hunter has done more than I give him credit for…_

"Is Faye-Faye okay?" Faye didn't need to hear the hacker's pet name for her to know who it is, the voice gave it away.

"Ed? What the hell are you doing? It's dangerous here!" Faye quickly remembered where she was and lowered her voice.

"Edward knows that, that is why Edward is not there."

_Kid's got a point._ "Then what are you doing?"

"Edward is saving Faye-Faye from the bad people."

"What are you talking about?" Faye was becoming increasingly annoyed by Ed's habit of dodging questions. Normally it didn't bother her, but in this particular situation, the long drawn out process of twenty questions just didn't seem appealing.

"Edward is giving Faye-Faye information to get Spike-person back to Bebop-Bebop."

"All right Ed, give me the information."

"Spike-person is in prison on the B3 floor. The escape place is on the B2 floor, it goes to the big car place."

"Ed are you sure?" Faye's voice broke through Ed's rapid explanation.

"Edward is always sure. Edward is looking at building papers right now."

"Alright Ed, I'm trusting you on this," Faye responded, her voice heavy…_if Ed is right, that means my brother was wrong._

"Faye-Faye wait!"

"What now Ed?"

"The bad people know Faye-Faye is in building." Faye's breathing stopped…_they know I'm here? Did someone find the guard?_ "Bad people don't know where Faye-Faye is though."

"Ed, listen to me."

"Yes, yes?"

"Unless something really important happens, don't contact any of us okay?"

"Okkie dokey Faye-Faye. Will Faye-Faye and Spike-person bring Edward a souvenir?"


	19. Extraction

**Fallen Seraphim**

**Extraction**

The elevator doors slid open revealing a darkened hallway. Faye glanced toward the glowing red numbers in the elevator: B3. She reached inside her coat and removed the Beretta from it's holster and stepped into the hallway.

Nothing.

Not taking anything for granted, she quickly made her way to the end of the hallway. Backing against the wall, she cautiously peered around the corner.

Another hallway, only this one contained a guard. She rapidly looked around for anything she could use for cover; there was none, that left only one option. She slowly raised the pistol and leveled the sights at the guard's head. _Exhale slowly, pull the trigger evenly._ The gun recoiled, jumping back in her hand. The guard's head snapped forward and he fell to the ground.

She jumped from her hiding spot and rushed towards the guard. When she reached him, she saw a puddle of blood and chunks of gore forming underneath him. She looked away slightly, then reached down to remove the guard's radio. She clipped the radio to the inside pocket of her coat and moved down the hallway…

_…It felt like hours, moving slowly, peeking around corners, playing tag with the backs of various guard's heads and leaving a trail of unconscious or dead bodies throughout the basement. In actuality, it had only been a little less than fifteen minutes. This whole thing has been getting me nowhere. I swear it's like I've been running in circles._

_I can't believe Seraph was wrong, he managed to get both of us in here unnoticed and then he gives me the wrong location, it just doesn't make any sense! Unless…_

"Oh shit!"

- - - - -

The sound of gunfire pulled Spike from his shadow puppets. He couldn't see what was going on from his perspective, but he could tell from the sounds that whomever was in there was giving the guard's one hell of a headache.

He suddenly saw a white blur move around the corner; then he saw the purple hair. He'd recognize that hair color anywhere…_'cause when it shows up it means nothing but trouble. _But Spike's inner emotions pulled in multiple directions at the same time. He was glad to see her, she was the first familiar face he'd seen in days, but he was also royally pissed that she didn't listen to him and stay the hell away. _Heh__…I'm still happy she came._

"Faye, what the hell are you doing here?" Spike yelled through the steel bars. She glanced towards him, a bewildered look covering her face. She quickly recovered and her eyes moved back down the hall towards the guys with guns. The gun in her hand recoiled three times and he heard a muffled scream from down the hallway.

"I'm baking you a fucking 'Welcome Home' cake. What the hell does it look like I'm doing?"

"What kind of icing?"

"Oh you've gotta be shittin' me!" the sound of screams filled the hallway as Faye rapidly fired the remainder of her clip. "I risk _my_ ass to come get _yours_ and you're worried about the _fucking icing on a cake!"_

Spike leaned back against the wall, the grin that always managed to piss her off covering his face as chaos continued to ensue just outside his cell. _I can't believe that I'm gonna owe her for saving my ass._

The shooting stopped and Spike glanced towards where he last saw Faye, suddenly concerned about her wellbeing. She sat there, leaning againstg the opposing wall, breathing heavily as sweat dripped down the side of her face. Her pistol hung from her right hand, her eyes unfocused, staring at the ground before her.

"Faye, you okay?"

Silence.

"…I'm fine."

She looked towards the cell and surveyed the situation. She rose to her feet and seemed to be deep in thought as to how to get the cell open.

"You need to use the panel over there," Spike said pointing to the wall near the guard's desk.

Faye walked to the panel and after a few second of staring at the buttons, she pressed the button corresponding to Spike's cell. The reinforced bars slid to the side and Spike stepped through the opening, tilted his head to each side and a few resounding cracks filled the air.

"You couldn't do that while you were in there?"

"I didn't have a reason to get up."

"Lunkhead."

- - - - -

"Do you have them yet?"

"There was a complication," Seraph responded to the ominous voice.

"How?"

"An outsider, I don't know who it was."

"Can you rectify the situation?"

"Yes."

"If you fail, I _will_ hold you personally responsible."

The voice faded into static, the static in turn faded away into nothing. Seraph leaned back into his chair, the security monitors continued to show the yellow grinning face.

They just stayed there. The hacker had long been gone but those stupid smiley faces just stayed there, grinning at him. A smiley face, the reason the whole plan went to hell was because of a stupid, friggin' smiley face.

Was this someone's sick idea of a joke?

_It couldn't be. Nobody knew about the plan aside from me and __Archangel__ so how did that hacker know?_

There were no answers, at least none as of yet. All that was left was that smiley face…_that stupid, yellow smiley face…_

Bang.

The screen before him shattered.

- - - - -

"Do you actually know where you're going?"

"Yes, I always know where I'm going."

"How?"

"Female intuition."

"Bullshit, how?"

"Ed."

"She came back?"

"No, she, uh…long story."

"Seraph double-crossed you didn't he?"

Faye couldn't say anything to the contrary, that same thought had been swimming through her head ever since she had that conversation with Ed. "How did you…"

"Men's intuition," Spike lied, Faye looked at him questioningly, it was obvious she could tell he was lying, he just didn't care.

"How did you know he-"

Chunks of plaster pelted them, the walls exploding as a hail of bullets filled the air.

Spike pushed Faye against the wall and stumbled to the ground beside her. He reached into his jacket to pull out his pistol, but found nothing. In the meantime, Faye had already drawn hers and was blind firing around the corner.

"Do you have a gun?"

"What?"

"Do you have an extra gun?"

She stopped firing…_I hadn't thought about that…_ "No."

"You broke in here to get me out and you didn't bring me a gun? What the hell were you thinking?" Spike's astonishment knew no bounds.

She fired a few more rounds, a yelp of pain came from down the hallway and brought a small bit of satisfaction…_I got one of them and they haven't hit us, that has to count for something._

"Faye…"

"No you can't have my gun."

"Faye!"

"What?" she turned to see Spike's hands grab her arms and yank her from the wall as it became riddled with holes. Spike shoved he through a doorway as the guard that appeared down the hall opened fire again. Spike dove through the door and landed on top of her. "Get off of me!

"Sorry your worshipfulness," Spike pushed himself off her and jumped to his feet and slamming the door shut.

"Where did that guard come from?"

"Around the corner." He locked the door.

A few scattered shots came through the doorway but were quickly stopped. Spike and Faye stared at the door, when a guard's static filled voice filled the room.

"This is BG5, targets are corned in R&D Lab 2. Repeat, targets have entered R&D 2."

Spike looked at Faye, then the radio, then back at her, "Where did that come from?"

"Took it off a guard."

Spike was impressed, _didn't think she would think ahead like that…_ "Wait a minute, where'd he say we are?"

Spike took a quick survey of the room, that is until his eyes spotted a row of large bore rifles on a rack at the opposite side of the room. "Come on, I got an idea."

Faye gave him a curious look as he took off across the room, then she remembered the large group of guards on the other side of the door and decided that she wanted to place as much distance between them and herself as possible. She was a few feet away from Spike when she saw him pick up the rifle, "Odd looking gun."

"Yeah," Spike commented while inspecting the scope. "Why does a scope have an 'On' button? Night vision?" Spike flipped the switch to 'ON' and looked through the scope. The row of desks appeared leading up to the wall and the closed door all appeared on the miniature screen; the only difference was that he could see through them. "What the hell?" He reached up to adjust the scope, but as he turned the dial the image zoomed in, revealing the ten or so guards that stood behind the wall. "This can't be real…"

"What is it?"

"Hang on," Spike lined the sights up on the head of, what he assumed to be, the closest guard. He squeezed the trigger. The rifle didn't recoil, but a brilliant blue flash appeared at the end of the barrel and two of the guards fell to the ground. A third grabbed his now severed arm and dropped to the floor, a muffled scream seeped through the doorway and walls. Spike quickly took aim at the others and fired more shots, stopping only when nothing on the other side of the wall was standing.

Faye looked to Spike nervously, "What the hell is that?"

"I dunno, but I like it."

- - - - -

Hallways blurred into one single gray mass as Faye and Spike ran through the endless maze of corridors. Spike had taken it upon himself to liberate two of the rifles and had both slung over his back. He had also recently liberated a sub-machine gun from one of the dead guards. There had been less resistance than he had expected, the only real incidents occurred in the detention area and outside the R&D lab. The only others involved about three now unconscious guards whose weapons had quickly been rescued from their unconscious bodies. Aside from those few instances, they found their way relatively unhindered, and this caused Spike mind consider many unpleasant possibilities.

"Why is this so easy?" Spike wondered aloud.

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Faye responded slightly out of breath.

"Do you remember what happened when the Greeks did that?"

"That's just a myth, you worry to-" Faye's train of thought just ran head long into another, about fifteen or so very heavily armed ones. Faye jumped backwards, nearly tripping over Spike in the process. Spike regained his composure and fired a few shots around the corner.

"How much farther do we need to go?" Spike asked firing blindly once again as a wall of lead tore into the wall opposite them.

"Did you see the door behind them?"

"Yeah."

"That's where we need to be."

"'Nother way around?"

"Just that door."

"Great," Spike groaned and sent a few more bullets headed towards the guards. "Any ideas?"

"Shoot them and walk through? Sounds like a plan to me."

"Thanks you Miss Brilliant Tactician, how do we do it?" Gunfire erupted again, chunks of plaster broke away from the wall and lay scattered across the ground. "Inventory?"

"What?"

"Inventory! What are you carrying?" Faye pulled out a small pack from _well…I don't think I wanna know where…_and pulled off the Velcro tab. Spike's eyes widened, "Why didn't you say we had grenades earlier?"

"It slipped my mind," Faye sputtered.

"Oi vei," Spike reached into the pack, grabbed a grenade, pulled the pin, and tossed it around the corner and down the hallway.

The explosion shook the building and the gunfire ceased. Spike jumped from his crouched position and ran down the hallway, his gun still trained on the group of dead or injured guards. Faye followed, watching their rear.

Spike made his way to the access panel for the door. "Oh shit," he turned back to Faye, "Tell me you know the access code."

"I didn't even _know_ there was an access code!"

"You didn't think there would be?"

"It's the emergency exit!"

"It's a building owned by something that doesn't exist!"

"How the hell was I supposed to know they'd be this anal!"

"_They_ don't _exist_!"

"Well, why don't you do something."

"Like what? Wish it open?"

A soft click came from the door and it began to rise.

"What did you do?" Faye looked at Spike in astonishment.

"I didn't do anything…but I guess you can't look a gif horse in the mouth." Spike grabbed a grenade from her pouch and pulled the pin. "You, run." Spike dropped the grenade by the doorway without bothering to see if she had even started to move. Spike turned to run and noticed that Faye was at least a good fifteen feet away and took off after her.

Two seconds later the grenade exploded, dislodging the doorway and causing a significant amount of debris to block the emergency exit. Not that it mattered, as neither of them bothered to look back.

- - - - -

The parking structure itself looked exactly like every other parking structure ever created by man. It was big, gray, made of concrete, and a complete eyesore; but that was the above ground floors. The two levels that extended down were still a complete eyesore, but they were full of vehicles at three o'clock in the morning. That in itself was odd, but the fact that every car in both floors is painted black would kinda make one wonder. But for a couple of fugitives trying to make a getaway, it makes for a perfect location.

Faye stumbled out of the darkened passageway and into the dim glow of fluorescent lights. She bent slightly, breathing heavy after sprinting the distance from the Brotherhood building. She glanced around quickly to get her bearings and made her way to the nearest sedan she deemed worthy. _Please be unlocked. Please let it be unlocked._ She pulled the handle on the driver's side door and a small grin appeared when the door swung open.

She looked back to the passage to see Spike come running out. "How far back are they?"

"I don't know." Spike responded, then he cocked his head to the side in his standard 'there's something wrong with this picture' pose. "Aren't you on the wrong side?"

"American made."

"They still have those?"

"I guess," Faye shrugged and sat in the driver's seat.

"Uh uh, no way in hell am I lettin' you drive," Spike remarked as he made his way around the car.

"What the hell, is this some macho-guy bullshit or something?" Faye yelled as searched through the car for the keys.

"I've seen what you do with your ship, I'm amazed that thing still flies."

"Hey, three-dimensions, two-dimensions, there's a difference."

"I'm telling you that there is no way I'm letting you drive!"

"I'm driving, deal with it." She started the engine.

"Over my dead body."

Gunfire erupted from the hallway, ricocheting off the rear window and the rest of the car.

"Drive damn it!"

Spike grabbed the edge of the roof as Faye threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the parking space with Spike still hanging on to the side of the car. He managed to get a foothold on the bottom edge of the car before Faye took the first corner.

"Will you try not to kill me!"

"Geez, men are such babies," Faye groaned as she slid around another corner and drove up a ramp to the next level up.

"You're not hanging off the side of a car!" Spike yelled back but then his eyes caught something behind them. "Uhh…Faye."

"What now?"

"Must go faster."

"What?" Faye looked in her rear view mirror and managed to see a black SUV speeding up behind her as she turned onto the ramp up to the ground floor. "Ahh shit."

"Faye, right, now!" Faye pulled the wheel hard to the right and the sedan swerved, breaking through a wooden arm and swerving once again to end up on a city street. The moon shown down from above to illuminate the SUV following them as it swerved out of the structure to follow them.

Spike reached inside the car and grabbed the handle just above the door with his left hand and pulled out one of the pistols that he and Faye had liberated from the guards with his other hand.

"I don't mean to alarm you, but I think we're being followed," Spike muttered through clenched teeth as he squeezed off his first shot. The bullet impacted just over the driver's side window and shattered that section of the window but didn't penetrate. It was accompanied by a slight swerve, _at least I got his attention_…Spike took aim at the front tire instead. He fired twice, the second puncturing the front left tire causing the vehicle to lose control and veer to the left. The driver over-compensated and the vehicle came back to the right, the top-heavy SUV rolled onto it's side before the force of the impact caused it to spin into the air.

_This is the kinda stuff that I like._

Two more SUVs swerved to miss the toppling vehicle.

"Ahh crap, we've got two more!" Spike took aim at the second but had barely fired a single shot when the passenger climbed through the sunroof holding a G4A3. "Oh shit." Spike shifted his aim to the passenger and fired four shots, the rifleman took refuge within the car and Spike's mind shifted into overdrive…._need a plan…must do something…_

"Faye, lean back!"

"What?"

"Just do it!" Faye yanked upward on the lever at the bottom of her seat and the back of the seat fell backwards and so did she. She could see Spike swing upwards on the side of the car, his hands acting like hinges as he pushed himself upward and slid through the car. His legs slammed into the passenger's door and the impact forced the door open, swinging out into oncoming traffic and the lower half of Spike's body fell through the doorway, his feet dragging and skipping across the speeding pavement. He reached out, grabbing onto back of the passenger seat to keep his body from being pulled through the doorway. The rifleman in the nearest SUV took advantage of the sudden target and took aim at Spike's legs dangling from the side of the car. Spike realized his sudden portrayal of a target, and quickly pulled his lower half back into the car as bullet holes riddled the door.

Faye reached down to the lever on the seat and quickly jumped into an upright position, her hands coming to the wheel with enough time to swerve around the oncoming corner. Spike skidded across the seat, his back sliding into the gearshift, his gun wrenched itself from his hand and fell into the back seat. Spike pulled himself into the backseat, pushing the experimental rifles to the side and grabbed his pistol as bullets impacted the rear windshield, breaking the bullet-proof glass but the window remained intact. Sensing an opportunity, Spike shoved the barrel of his pistol through one of the bullet impacts and rapid-fired the remainder of his clip towards the speeding SUV. He flicked the clip released and the empty magazine fell to the floor, reaching for another he came to a startling realization…he didn't have another one.

"Faye, gimme your gun."

"Why?" she replied defiantly, Spike could have sworn he saw her knuckles turn a few shades whiter on the steering wheel.

"I'm out alright, gimme you gun!"

"What if I need it?"

"I need it now, this isn't an _if_"

"Well tough, make due."

_Of all the times for that woman to be a stubborn bi-_ the car suddenly skidded around a corner, Spike slid across the rear seat but something odd happened; the seat moved with him. Spike looked down at the seat and noticed that there was a gap between the bottom of the seat and the seat back, Spike shoved the cushion aside and found a cache of weapons that could arm a small army. Spike rapidly surveyed the find and selected a G3A3, grabbed a clip and pushed the barrel through the hole created by the pistol and pulled the trigger. The rifle recoiled and bullets flew from the barrel towards the SUV impacting the engine compartment, wisps of smoke began to pour from the vehicle's hood and the driver began to slow down.

The gun clicked empty and Spike grabbed another clip, reloaded and resumed firing. One of the bullets punched through the radiator causing black smoke to pour out around the engine, the next few bullets finished it off. The engine exploded blowing out the forward axle and lifting the SUV from the ground and causing it to slam to the ground, sparks flying from the metal frame as pieces broke away. The third SUV managed to narrowly avoid the smoldering wreckage and continued in pursuit.

"Faye, there's still one left!" Spike looked back into the compartment for something he could use against the final SUV when he found exactly what he needed; in the form of an M203 grenade launcher with three rounds. He quickly loaded one and used the butt of the assault rifle to clear a hole in the rear windshield big enough to aim through. He took aim at the front of the vehicle and squeezed the trigger.

The shot went wide as Faye took a corner sending Spike careening across the backseat.

"Faye, I thought I told you to warn me!"

"Corner."

"A little late," Spike tried to aim again but skidded across the seat once more as the car slid around another corner. "Damn it Faye!"

"I warned you."

Mumbling under his breath Spike took aim at the last SUV and pulled the trigger. The grenade launcher recoiled and made that immensely gratifying sound that only a grenade launcher can make. The front end of the SUV exploded into flames, the heat powerful enough for Spike to feel as the sedan sped away. As the car skidded around yet another corner, both Spike and Faye could feel the rumble of the gas tank explosion.

Spike crawled forward into the passenger's seat, leaving the cache of weapons scattered across the backseat. He looked through the windshield at the endless row of buildings flanking the deserted street as the two of them continued down the road in silence. Thoughts wandered in and out of his consciousness, how to deal with the Brotherhood, what there next move would be, where they would go, _where the hell are some cigarettes. _

"Got any smokes?"

Faye glanced at him, as if looking for a deeper meaning in the benign question. Finding none, she produced a pack and tossed them towards him. Spike grabbed one and offered her, which she declined, and lit up. Smoke began to fill the car and Spike rolled down the window.

"What do you think is going to happen?"

Spike looked at her…_something's different, I know it…_ "I'm not sure."

"Oh, okay."

This caused Spike to look at her closer_…something's really wrong…_ "Faye, what is-"

"I killed someone."

This took a second to click, _so she killed someone, she's done it before…come to think of it, I've never seen her shoot someone. It was always tires, warning shots, the sort that weren't lethal…now she killed someone, because of me…you can't take that back…_ "Faye, I'm sorry."

"I don't want your pity!"

"I'm not patronizing you; I know what it's like!"

"Bull shit."

"I was twenty-one, I messed up and got a gun pulled on me. I got shot in the shoulder, he got one in the chest. Took out his lung and he spent about a minute before he drowned in his own blood. It was me or him, and I 'won' if that word even applies."

Silence.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"I don't know."

A/N I just wanted to add this in. This car chase was the whole reason I wrote this story. I came up with the concept before I came up with the idea of Seraph, so that's saying something. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writting it. Thanks for all the reviews. 


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